The Necromancer's Daughter
by Lynn Osburn
Summary: CHAPTER 10 UP! Sometimes we underestimate people. SORRY bout the long break! Finals week sucked! R/R
1. Arrangements

**1**.

They both looked different now.

Men are blessed with age in a way women avoid. About mid-thirties they obtain a look of dignified wisdom that is further complimented with gray hair and just enough facial detail to look distinguished. It's a benefit for the ruling class, especially for a street rat who spent most of his twenties trying to win the respect of a council that would not accept him by birth, breeding, and class.

Funny thing about advisors and councilors. They often don't last in their positions for much longer than the sultan who placed them does.

But at the moment, Aladdin would give paid a lot of money to have some of the more experienced advisors to speak to right now.

Mozenrath was not smiling. Not even his cold, smug smile of past encounters. He was frowning, his fingers drumming irritably on the contract they'd been going over for the past few hours. It was coming down to the final terms. Weeks of ambassadors, notes, rough drafts, arguing and every other miniscule asinine procedure of bureaucratic nightmare that could be conjured up.

And now they were finally in a room together.

Behind Aladdin was one of his own appointed advisors, a man with vast knowledge of the palace treaty archives. His purpose was to gently nudge their sultan if he were to offer too much or too little during these final negotiations.

Mozenrath had been courteously offered the same. He had declined. After all the Land of the Black Sand wasn't known for making peace accords. He wasn't even known for making declarations of war.

_But…_Aladdin mused as Mozenrath scanned the page again. _Times, people, things all change._

"Everything seems to be cut and dry." Mozenrath said finally. "I allow trade passage through the eastern and southern routes to go unmolested by my Mamlucks."

"And Agrabah will no longer interfere with your magical pursuits." Aladdin nodded. "As long as, of course, your continue to leave the Seven Deserts at large alone." He pointed a finger firmly at the necromancer. "When you make a deal with Agrabah, it effects the rest of the kingdoms we count as our allies."

A smirk, as dark as when they were young. "Still such noble aims Aladdin. I'm surprised you even considered agreeing to this proposal."

Aladdin took a deep, calming breath. He would **not **let himself be antagonized now. Not while they were so close. Besides, he had one trump card left to him.

Mozenrath was the one to propose this in the first place.

The Sultan of Agrabah gave him an even look. "We are both getting something from this Mozenrath. Your title as Lord of the Black Sands will be fully recognized and along with that all the privileges, legalities and nobility. You will be acknowledged as a legitimate Sultan in your own right."

Mozenrath made a scoff under his breath. That was merely a formality. They both knew he had always considered himself a Sultan, or better for that matter. All this changed was his ability to keep his kingdom against attempted usurpers with the support of the Seven Deserts kingdoms.

Aladdin was receiving the same. A few of his enemies had passed on over the years, but enough of them had magical blood to potentially outlast him.

Or his heirs.

Having someone like Mozenrath, a powerful dark wizard with an army of undead, on his side. It was as practical as it was distasteful. And over the years Aladdin had realized that the kingdom had to come before all personal qualms and morality. This was the first time he had deemed it necessary to make a deal with an old adversary. The first time a threat had loomed on the horizon that he had felt his confidence in himself…lacking.

_Things change. You're not some young street rat anymore. You're a man with a family. A wife, four beautiful children. A kingdom to protect and people whom you serve. And your getting older Aladdin! No man can last forever. _He bristled at his own insult. He was thirty and eight years young! He wasn't some doddering old liege sitting asleep in his throne. He could go another forty or fifty years before…

Mozenrath coughed pointedly and arched an eyebrow at Aladdin. "And of course…the marriage."

The advisor nudged Aladdin gently, a move so slight no one else could have perceived it.

Mozenrath sneered at the gesture. "Is there a problem?"

Aladdin sighed. "Yes as a matter of fact. I resent arranged marriages and I have never had any intention of inflicting one on any my children. I'm surprised a child of yours would even consent to something being arranged outside their input."

"My children obey their father. Perhaps you and your sultana could use some lessons in discipline if your brats are so unruly."

Aladdin rose from the chair, his chest full of anger. "Just because I don't keep my son on a such a short leash that no one has ever seen him…"

Mozenrath had risen just as quickly. "Exactly! Who knows where he's been all his teen years. With that street rat blood in his veins he could be off among the opium houses and brothels where his father was born!"

The guards had cracked open the door at the raised voices. The new captain, a man Rasoul has specifically trained to replace him, already had his hand on the sword hilt.

Aladdin grit his teeth but had not risen to the bait. "And we are to simply assume your daughter is as…virtuous…as her father?"

Mozenrath was not a man anyone would have judged to be an affectionate parent. But his eyes went red at the accusation. "Insolent piece of trash! All this time on the throne has gone to your head! Your half wit son would be lucky to get someone half as good as my Sybil!"

"Who may or may not exist!" Aladdin retaliated. "Face it Mozenrath! Since the beginning of this your daughter has been all smoke and mirrors! I shouldn't be surprised. How could someone like you ever convince a woman to sire a child is beyond me!"

"So many things are." The voice went dead calm. His gauntlet flared in violent energy and the guards burst through the room as a blaze of energy shot for Aladdin's head. Blades raised and aimed for the wizard's heart until a female voice pierced the air.

"Father! What in the name of Ahriman…!"

The men in the room turned to look into the portal as a young woman, perhaps fifteen or sixteen struggled to pull her night robes over her gown. She was in her chambers, fresh from a bath as her short, dark curls clung to her face. Aladdin realized he'd been proven wrong. Her facial features were clearly indicative of Mozenrath's siring. Her large, expressive eyes, hawkish nose, and wide lips were clearly of his making. So was the scowl on her face as she glared at her father's lack of paternal conscience.

"There!" Mozenrath said with a satisfied voice as he child picked up a vase and began to launch it just as the portal closed. "Enough proof for you Aladdin or do you need to see the umbilical cord?"

Aladdin turned at the sorcerer. He had felt a sudden twinge for the girl in the portal. What kind of woman could she be, having been raised alone in that dark, morbid Citadel? Who was her mother? Was there any maternal attention there? "Have you explained any of this to her?" he said sympathetically. "Talked to her at all about this arrangement?"

"I've told her what she needs to know."

"For Allah's sake this is your own daughter Mozenrath!" Aladdin said, appalled by his nonchalance.

"And what have you told your son?" Mozenrath said skeptically. "That he's going to be wedded to a sorcerer's child? That his wife will be practiced in the most arcane and dark forms of necromancy?" Mozenrath laughed, a short, wicked sound hollow of mirth. "Tell me exactly how did that conversation go?"

Another nudge from the advisor. They had come up with multiple strategies before entering into this, all dependant upon how the meeting went. Aladdin nodded quickly and looked Mozenrath full in the face. "I propose an amendment to the marriage."

Another laugh. "You can't amend a marriage. Either our children wed or they don't. This treaty hinges on it."

"We'll agree to the rest of the treaty without delay, if you agree to these terms." Aladdin said quickly. Now was the time to be done with this. There was too much of the future at stake here. Mozenrath, as far as he like to spread his web, had to know something about the Dominion's movement's up north. Now was not the time for kingdoms built so close to be divided.

Aladdin largely suspected this to be the reason for Mozenrath's sudden willingness to make peace.

_Arrogant, evil, manipulative and tyrannical…but not stupid. _

Mozenrath took hold of his chair and sat down, managing to look bored and interested at the same time. "What is your amendment?"

Aladdin overlooked the lack of courtesy (he'd a been a fool to expect it anyhow) and took his seat. The guards withdrew, though looking particularly displeased about the lack of blood on their halberds. "I propose a year long engagement. During which time, your Sybil and my Farhis will be allowed to come to know one another. **Without**…" he said strongly. "…parental assistance from either side. If they can at least be _friendly _with one another within that span of time, than the marriage can go ahead as planned and you will be father-in-law to the crown prince of Agrabah."

"And you to the most powerful necromancer since…" and at this there was a strange mixture of pride and humility in his voice. "…since myself." He reclined in his chair, rubbing his lips together, a strange look in Mozenrath's eyes that entirely unnerved Aladdin. "A year is a long time Aladdin…for a man not to see his eldest son…"

"They will not be staying in the Citadel." His forcefulness put Mozenrath on edge.

"I won't leave my daughter in your _delightful_ little palace." Mozenrath said with equal force. "She's a girl after my own heart and all this sunny disposition might make her ill."

"And your sunless lands are likely to bleach my son white as you are."

Mozenrath tilted his head inquisitively. "You're proposing a tour then?" Aladdin nodded, expecting another argument. To his surprise the wizard began to nod in though. "That's not altogether a bad idea. Give Sybil a chance to see the lands she will one day rule over…"

"Our contract…" Aladdin began and Mozenrath held up a flippant hand.

"Stipulates that _**I**_ will not attempt to conquer the Seven Deserts by force Aladdin." Mozenrath's wolfish smile cut through the room. The white streaks in his hair only made his appearance more foreign and vindictive. "There are other ways to conquer a kingdom _sultan_."

"Such as by marriage." Now it was Aladdin's turn to smile. "To bad you couldn't have had a son first." It was a low blow. If Jasmine had been in the room he wouldn't have said it. But this was the law. A woman's place was second to her husband's no matter how powerful she might be in her own right. He had never treated Jasmine as such because she had never let herself be treated that way. Love and respect mingled between the two of them and a decade of sovereignty had only strengthened the bond.

But one look at Sybil made him feel certain that Mozenrath's daughter would require a stronger hand to manage. He clearly remembered Zabar, the king of Mesmeria. The king had fallen in love with the beautiful sorceress Deluca and made her his queen. Only to end up as a hawk for the better part of a thousand years while his wife destroyed their kingdom and (very nearly) Agrabah.

_No! That won't happen here._ He knew Farhis was as capable of dealing with this girl's magical outbursts as he had been at dealing with Mozenrath's.

"My daughter is second only to me Aladdin." Mozenrath sat forward a bit and materialized a quill from nothing. He touched ink to the parchment and the words rearranged themselves, forming to fit the conditions said. Before Aladdin could speak Mozenrath took the sharp edge and twisted it into his own finger, letting droplets of blood stain the parchment.

The red swirled and coiled into the signature of the Lord of the Citadel. With a sinister look, Mozenrath pointed the quill feathers first in Aladdin's direction. "You can of course you ink…" he mocked.

Aladdin made no betraying movements. He slashed into his finger and let the droplets bleed into the paper. Though he was no sorcerer, the word coiled into his official signature, albeit with much less flourish than Mozenrath's.

_Tsk tsk._ Mozenrath shook his head. "Thirteen years in the palace and you still have no penmanship."

Arrangements


	2. Close Encounters

**2.**

Mozenrath clenched his jaw as Sybil delivered a backhanded slap across her father's face.

"How _dare_ you!" She snarled, her eyes widened with rage. "What makes you think you have any right to invade my privacy…"

"And I suppose my rights as your father are obsolete." He said in a cool, detached tone. She went to strike him again and this time he caught her fist before she could use her nails. Force radiated from her palm and her strange bend of power finished the blow she physically could not. Red striped laid across his cheek and chin and Mozenrath jerked his daughter to the side.

"You are being entirely ungrateful."

"Ungrateful!" she railed, her turquoise blue hair revealing itself in the torchlight. "What cause do I have to be grateful that you're selling me out to some pampered prince. Not even a real prince…a…a…street rat whelp!" she looked positively infuriated, a look that made her resemblance to her father even more disturbing.

"If you had bothered listening in these past months you'd have realized that I'm setting you up as the future queen of Agrabah!" Mozenrath snapped back, his fists clenching. He had never, despite what people would feel sure of, struck his daughter. Pushed her, pulled her, moved her forcefully when he felt it necessary. But he had never raised his hand to intentionally hurt her.

That did not mean he was not sorely tempted to at times.

_And who do we have to blame for her infuriatingly stubborn attitude?_

Alright. He could admit that much to himself.

"Future queen." Sybil struck back sharply. "Assuming everything goes according to plan. Assuming I don't kill him first…"

Mozenrath pointed a condemning finger at her. "You will do no such thing!" he commanded, seeing his daughter pull back a little at an actual order.

"But…why?" she said, almost pleading like a child. "It would be so much easier to simply be done with the whole family and rule Agrabah myself." She crossed her arms and pouted. Another trait she had gotten from her father. Albeit on a female it looked a bit more endearing.

Mozenrath sighed, rubbing his temples to alleviate the pressure. "You must understand. The Dominion is gaining momentum. Their tens of thousands of miles away now, but who knows how quickly they could move towards our kingdom. Five years? Ten at the outside most."

"But your Mozenrath!" she said entreatingly. Despite her disobedience and rebellion, she still saw him as every girl sees her father. A force to be reckoned with. The strength in her life that protects from outside assailment.

Mozenrath felt a pang that he shut quickly away. It wouldn't do for her to see that glimmer of affection in his eyes. "And I've gotten where I am by planning ahead. By foreseeing every potential outcome." He held out his hand, offering it for her to help stand. Sybil shoved it out of the way and tried to rise with as much dignity as she could muster. She was still a teenager. Still ungainly.

"But that's still ten years. Why now? Why…him?" She was calmer now. Her outbursts were violent but short. And when she regained self control she was always more willing to listen to reason.

Mozenrath wondered if he should take pity on Aladdin's son and warn him.

_*smirk* Let him find out the hard way._

"Ten years at the outside most. You have no idea how quickly an empire can make headway. It really depends upon how quickly the monarchies in the north submit. The longer they fight, the longer the Seven Deserts, us included, have to prepare."

Sybil's eyes lit up. "Xerxes deliveries!" she spoke suddenly. "Those rich gifts from our coffers." She tilted her head in an intrigued fashion. "You've been building relations."

Mozenrath nodded. "Not an easy task. I'm not exactly everyone's friendly neighborhood sorcerer." He grimaced, remembering the tentative replies on his desk. Most nobles were happy to accept the gifts, but the words back were always the same. A sweet, carefully worded "Thank you." Followed promptly by a "Please leave us alone." That was fine. He couldn't dedicate his energies to conquest any more. Not when there was something out there bigger and more powerful than himself that posed a threat.

He had worked too hard and given up too much to loose it to somebody else.

"But…a marriage proposal…" Sybil said with more insight. "To a respectable and even heralded kingdom…"

Mozenrath let himself exhale a little. If she could be made to see the sensibility in this it was all the better. "It would lend to the semblance that we are sincere in our motives." He paused. "At least for now."

Sybil and he exchanged conspiratorial looks. She uncrossed her arms and her face became challenging. "I won't marry him just because of that." She said firmly. "I will want to meet him first. He has to be worthy of me to even be a consideration as a bridegroom."

Mozenrath looked at her severely. "Just how many candidates do you think there are? I don't exactly see roses piling up at our doors or poetry being written in your name."

Sybil blanched at the insult. "Maybe if you didn't keep me cooped up in this derelict Citadel…nothing to do but keep pouring over dusty old books…practicing magic until each spell is perfected."

"And you've made me more proud than any other apprentice ever could in that department." He would not have said it if it had not been true. Compliments did not come naturally to Mozenrath. It was not flattery. It was truth. She was skilled, dedicated, talented and creative. When she became engrossed in a spell, sleep, food, and all other necessities became irrelevant until she had mastered it.

"Now if only you could be a better daughter." He said without pause.

"You mean a more obedient daughter." Sybil rolled her eyes and spoke as she stormed off down the hallway. "If you wanted that in a girl you should have mated with a human."

Mozenrath started after her when a small voice came from a door. "Are you and sister fighting again?"

Mozenrath looked down at the child, no more than eight, who was only half peeking out from behind the frame. He was dressed in the livery of the Citadel, his dark black curls combed so as to hide his eyes from view. "Your sister is being obstinate again. Don't worry about it. Go back and play with the nanny."

"Nanny Elaine went to go get supper for me. Can't you come in and play for a little while dad?" he voice was soft and entreating. Not a plea, just an askance for a little of his fathers time and company.

Mozenrath coughed. "I have business to attend to for the moment. Would you like me to send one of the servants in? Perhaps one of the pets I got you?"

"No. It's alright." His voice registered neither disappointment or sorrow. Simply acceptance of his father's time constraints. "I understand. Tell sister I said good night."

"I will." He said swiftly and turned away so as not to hear the click of the door and the sound of slowly moving, small feet on the marble. As he moved down the corridor a middle aged woman, plump and carrying a tray of food nearly bumped into him.

"Oh! Lord Mozenrath forgive me! I didn't see you…"

He waved her off dismissively. "How is he?"

Nanny Elaine paused. "Well. Better every day. He's begun to learn the alphabet and numerals from those bumpity books you found for him. Spends hours feeling over them with his little fingers." She gave a half hearted smile. "It does seem to be making him happy to be able to read at least my lord."

Mozenrath nodded, apparently satisfied with the progress report. "Make time to take him out to the greenhouse and menagerie tomorrow." He ordered and began to head onward.

"My lord." Nanny Elaine said. "Forgive me if it is speaking out of turn to you. I would never presume if little Morgan hadn't asked so imploringly and of course if you havn't the time…"

"Nanny Elaine…" Mozenrath said impatiently. She was a good woman, showing affection a great deal more readily than Mozenrath knew himself capable of. He knew she had lost four in the womb to miscarriage and two to disease in her younger years. For this alone she was the perfect nurse and doted on Morgan like he was her own son. But she did have a tendency to prattle that would have gotten her murdered in her masters earlier years.

"I do think the young prince would enjoy his _father_ showing him the menagerie and plant house. After all, my lord has so many exotics I would hardly know what to call them all."

Mozenrath started to flare, his gauntlet glowing angrily at this servants audacity. But something in him suddenly felt…old. "I'll find some time in the afternoon to take him." He said quickly.

"Can I tell him it's a promise?" the nanny began. But Mozenrath was around the corner before it could reach his ears.

***

"A sorceress eh?" Rashad whistled and gave a lewd grin. "I've heard they can be pretty randy given the right incentive." He nudged the young man beside him in royal robes. "Pretty lucky break for you eh Farhis?"

Farhis laughed with good humor and tossed his turban up in the air again. He was currently trying to see if he could catch it on the next branch up from Rashad's. If he could, than his friend would have to retrieve the lost hats instead of him. "I dunn know though. Dad said it's only for a year, and just an engagement at that."

"What for?" his friend asked, gently knocking the back of his knee so he'd miss his next throw.

Farhis threw him a competitive look. "To see if we're compatible I guess. Or at least to make sure we won't kill each other." He chuckled at his own joke.

Jubair guffed in a serious manner. "You shouldn't take that so lightly. Do you know how many stories are full of witch wives who tricked their husbands and murdered their own children in some kind of dark bloody ritual?" he held up the book he was reading. "In this one, there's this spider widow. She tricks a man into her web by singing with a beautiful voice. Then, when he's too seduced, she calls her children and lets them eat him alive."

"Jubair…" Rashad grabbed the book and tossed it into the fish pond. "If you got your nose out of books about woman and got your self into a woman…"

"Rashad Duhul Faquir!" A woman's voice, older and mothering came from no where, causing the three boys to jump in surprise. "If your mother heard you talking like that about women! And you with five sisters…"

"I'm sorry your majesty…Sultana Jasmine…ma'am." Rashad gave a low bow, his cheeks red from embarrassment.

The sultana was not swayed. "I've half a mind to go tell Sadira exactly how her son is behaving."

"Not that there's a word of truth to it." Farhis whispered under his breath. Jubair tried to stifle a chuckle but Jasmine's eyes turned towards her son.

"Do you have something to add in your friend's defense?" she asked her son sharply. "Perhaps if you paid more attention to the council debates instead of the theater houses you wouldn't be so inclined to listen to his bawdy stories."

Farhis stood up straight, looking into his mothers eyes warmly, but respectfully. "It's better I have him to entertain me with fancies, than fancy at entertaining myself with the reality." He'd scored a point with that once. He watched the sides of his mother's mouth twitch playfully at his insolence and brazen attitude. He'd always had a quick wit and a bolder sense of humor than most princes. Whereas Aladdin had always been willing to add muscle to his cleverness, Farhis would talk his way out of a situation if he could before anyone got punched.

"Very well. But you boys should all be at lessons right now. Where is your tutor?"

"Out with the mumps your majesty." Jubair said quickly. "We came outside to enjoy the menagerie and catch up on some light reading." He presented his book as a show of good faith.

"And your homework?" she said quickly, looking from her son, to his friends.

Farhis chuckled. "Well I'm almost done with the essay. Just needs some polishing up before I turn it over."

Jasmine gave an expectant smile. "Than why don't you go get it. I would be more than happy to help my son refine his linguistic skills." She gave him a smart look and Farhis gave an embarrassed chuckle.

"Well…of course mother…I would be so grateful if…"

Jasmine waved her hands in exasperation. "All right all right." She kissed her son's forehead lovingly. "Go on the three of you. It's too nice a day to spend studying anyhow. Why don't you go to the marketplace and pick us up some fresh fruits for dinner tonight?" The boys nodded, excited at the chance to get beyond the palace walls for a while. "And when you get back you can have a five page essay for me about trade and commerce in Agrabah."

A long, harmonious moan followed her words as she gave her son a bag of coins with much more than it would take for a few baskets of fruit. They thanks the sultana and hurried off before she could issue another edict for their education.

"You know you really should be more grateful." Jubair said pointedly at Rashad. "Your mother was born a street rat just like the sultan. And the sultana was kind enough to make her a handmaiden. Otherwise someone like you wouldn't qualify for a written education."

Rashad aimed a punch at Jubair's arm and the smaller boy yelped in pain. "My mother was a witch of the sands before she became a handmaiden ya jerk. Don't go acting all high and mighty because your father's the head scribe for the palace."

"Yeah. And like you said, my dad was born a street rat too. Which means I wouldn't qualify either." Farhis said pointedly as he purchased a place of pita and hot lambs meat.

"Yes, but your mothers the sultana." Jubair said reasonably. "Rashad's father was just a palace guard."

"Do you like getting hit?" Rashad exclaimed angrily, raising his fist again.

"I think everyone should get an education." Farhis said suddenly, causing both boys to stop in their skirmish. They looked at him questioningly, both wondering where the sudden outburst of insight had come from.

"Think about it guys. I mean, we skip classes and stuff all the time, but then we kinda have the privilege of being able to have classes at all." Farhis smiled congenially. "And sometimes we get to learn some interesting things along with all the other boring junk."

"But that's not possible." Jubair stated. "Law forbids anyone beneath noble class from learning to read or write, learning philosophy or history or even politics." He pointed to the vendors. "Even merchants are only allowed to learn mathematics and linguistics."

"Yeah but what if you could create a tutoring center? Ya know, use some of the taxes to fund it and allow for everyone, no matter their class, to get an education." Farhis spread his arms wide. "Think of it, Agrabah, City of the Learned. The Wisest Kingdom in the Seven Deserts." He looked at his friends expectantly, waiting to see them revel in his vision.

Rashad and Jubair look at one another, than promptly burst out laughing. "I tell you Farhis, you've come up with some wacky things before. But this has to beat all!" Rashad said and clapped his chest. "I mean seriously, can you imagine it. Merchants and carpenters going to school alongside whores and opium tenders?" He let out another long laugh, fully absorbed in the humor of it.

Farhis blustered a little at the comment. "It would be for kids only. Like our age and younger." He amended.

"Even worse." Jubair said. "The children for whores and merchants alongside one another." He chuckled and adjusted his glasses on his face. "Seriously though. How insulting would that be. Imagine your child going to school with the bastard of a whore? Think of all the stories he'd come home with? No good can come of mixing classes Farhis."

"What about..?"

"Your mother and father were the exception to the rule. Aladdin proved himself and his status was elevated because of it." Jubair explained. "That doesn't mean everyone deserves the same treatment."

"I agree, but for a different reason." Rashad hugged his royal friend with one arm and pointed to a group of children in their tens and elevens rolling a hoop around the ally-way with a stick. "Don't they look happy? Enjoying themselves? Carefree and no worries on their shoulders? Now, do you want to go over and tell them about the Dominion's activities in the far north?" he said seriously. "Do you want to tell them what all the councilors suspect? That the Seven Deserts could be next and all their homes torched and families enslaved?" Rashad shook his head. "No. No you couldn't pay me enough to be that herald. Heck I wish _I _didn't know half of what I do about it!" He released Farhis from his muscular grip. "Leave it on the shoulders of the councilors and the nobles and the men who have the knowledge to deal with that kind of threat. The peasants are better served in ignorance."

Farhis started to argue, but his friends laughter stopped him. If they thought it was a poor idea… After all they did have a point. Being the crown prince, he had to sit in on many of the council meetings and jury trials of the day. He'd heard many troubling things, often more than he cared to, about the world and it's goings on. Some days it was easier to sneak off with Rashad and Jubair for a lazy afternoon fishing than think about the grain and rice shortages along the east river and the bandit raids along the south caravan.

_Maybe their right._ _Maybe it would just be a waste of resources and time to try an educate people who are happy in their ignorance._ He let it slip through his mind, feeling that he was losing hold of something significant for a moment, but giving it up as Rashad let loose a loud whistle and followed his friends eyes.

Across the street, looking at a stand with ripe chickens and but not coming close enough to touch any of them was a shapely, tall young woman with her head uncovered. And what a head! Her hair was cropped short, making it curl into little ringlets in hues of green and blue.

"By Allah!" Jubair said offensively. "What do you think she had to use to get it that color?"

"I don't mind a colorful girl." Rashad said, standing up and giving his muscles an impressive flex. "I even like 'em tall like that."

"You like anything with two hills and a valley." Farhis said sarcastically. Though he had to admit, she was…well…no pretty wasn't the right word. Pretty yes. Exotic, most assuredly. But her features were more striking than anything else. Her large, long lashed eyes were showing keen interest in the woman plucking the chicken with efficient skill.

She had not yet noticed Rashad advancing on her.

"Hello there." He said smoothly, walking up along side her.

Farhis and Jubair watched with interest. It was always a moment of sheer hilarity to see if Rashad was going to slapped or flirted with.

For a moment it seemed as though she was going to snub him outright. But he put himself between her and the vendor and winked. "Say, do you know where there's a camel market?"

"What?" she said, obviously irritated by the inane question.

"Cause I've got a hump to get rid of."

Farhis hid his face in his hands and burst out laughing. "Honestly! Where does he get this stuff?" Jubair just shook his head and continued to watch.

Her face was a portrait of shock and disgust. "Please tell me that the sun in the wretched bazaar has gotten to me and you are a mirage." She said in a deadpan tone.

"No such luck sweetness." He looked up at his friends and gave them a tell tale wink that said very clearly "I'm-about-to-do-something-stupid.-Come-and-watch."

"So my friends over there and I had a bet going that I was hoping you could help us settle." He said moving closer to her. "Mind giving us a hand?"

"If I do will you go away?" she asked.

"Sure."

She sighed and crossed her arms. "Very well. What is it?"

Rashad grinned. "I was just wondering about that pretty hair of yours and ah…" he got in close, but Farhis could read his lips perfectly.

_Does the carpet match the drapes?_

"Oh my Allah…" Farhis said in half laughter.

They had expected the shocked screech, even the slap. It was par the course for Rashad.

They did not expect to see their friend go sailing across the market commons and into the fountain a good eight feet away. "You little…you…you….ohhhhhhhhh!" She turned on her heel and began moving angrily away from him, muttering curses under her breath.

Jubair went towards their friend, Farhis started towards the girl. He wanted to stop her before she went and told someone about the insult. It wouldn't be the first time Rashad had come face to face with an angry girl's father who thought his daughter's honor had been impugned.

"Wait! Hey there! You with the curls!"

She rounded on him, stopping so short he nearly collided with her. "What do you want? One of that pervert's little friends?" she growled threateningly.

"No! I mean yes! I am his friend I mean." He saw her rear back for a strike and held up his hands defensively. "Easy with those! I've seen men three times your size that can't knock a guy that far!"

"I'm more powerful than I look." She said rigidly. Farhis noticed suddenly that she stood eyes to eye with him. It was a little unsettling. He was tall for his age, but most girls were still a good 6 inches to a foot shorter than he was.

"I'd say so. I just wanted to apologize for my friend. He's a nice guy.. He just likes to show off with pretty girls. That's all." He smiled, that sideways, rakish smile that had soothed angry tempers before.

She looked at him, a light inquisition on her face. "What did you just call me?"

"Huh?" Farhis started. "What?"

"Nothing." She said quickly. "Never mind. It's not important at any rate." She started off and then looked back at him. "You should tell your friend to be more careful. Not every _pretty_ girl out there is what she appears."

He shrugged. "Obviously not." He looked behind him at Rashad shaking himself off as he tried to wring out his cloths. "Hey. Would you like to maybe get some falafel sometime?" he asked, prepared for an answer to go either way.

She eyes the two friends behind him. She face turned to him and she appeared to be ?appraising? him in someway. She made a slight jerk of her head in a yes motion and then shook it. "No. No I don't think that would be a very good idea."

"Hey I promise they don't follow me everywhere." Farhis motioned to his friends. _Did she just smile?_

"It's not that. I'm…" she gave an annoyed sound. "…betrothed…a little"

Farhis walked towards her. "You should petition the sultan. Parents still have legal right to arrange marriages, but my pare…err…my lords have amended it. Any woman who feels good reason not to marry their betrothed can apply to the courts. If good reason is found…"

"But I don't know if I want to marry him yet. I haven't met him." She was waiting for him to come closer. At the very least she hadn't run off.

"Ugh!" he tried to sound playful. "Than he's probably ugly and lack wit with bad breath. That's the only reason not to show him to you first." He winked, an altogether different wink than Rashad.

She giggled. Not a girlish, playful giggle. But one full of mischief and wicked humor. It made him like her even more. He was so sick of courtiers and princesses with their high pitched, overly feminine giggles. "If he is than I will most defiantly petition to have the engagement annulled."

"And if he is…maybe we can meet up again some time." He said. "When do you meet him?"

"A few days from now."

"Alright than I'll make you deal. If he's ugly and lack wit with bad breath, I'll meet you at that fountain in four days at just after midday." He entreated her with his eyes.

She gave him that appraising look again, like she was trying to discern if he was lying or trying to fool with her somehow. Then, almost shyly, she said. "Alright."

He must have blinked. The sun shined off a piece of jewelry being shown to a prospective customer. When he refocused she was gone. Just the sand in the dirt left where she'd stood.

_That's the way it is. The ones that act the strongest are usually the shyest. _

"That's not right of you." Jubair said as he caught up with them. Rashad was half undressed, hanging his cloths on a near fence to dry out in the sun.

"What?" Farhis asked, not really listening.

"Your _engaged_ your majesty!" Jubair argued.

"Not really. Only for a year. Maybe not even that long if we're not suited. What am I supposed to pin all my hopes on one girl my parents picked whom I've never even met before?" He made his face expressionless and carefully arched one eyebrow as high as it would go. "That is extremely illogical captain."

"What?"

He shrugged it off. "Genie does it all the time…never mind."

"I'm just saying, your going to be meeting this girl in a few days. And she's the Lord of the Black Sands daughter! Imagine if Mozenrath caught you on a date with another girl while you're _supposed_ to be courting his daughter." Jubair sounded shocked at the possible breech in protocol.

"Ah but what if she's ugly and lack wit with bad breath?" he mused at his humor, his thoughts on the cerulean haired girl.

Rashad laughed but Jubair wrung his head. "It doesn't matter. You have to treat her nicely. Didn't your parents…?"

"I'm just kidding Jubair! Jeez learn to take a joke once in a while." He laid back on the grass.

Chance Encounter


	3. Bad Beginnings

**3.**

_Pretty_. Sybil mused in a mirror as she prepared in the carriage ride. Her father had conjured some magnificent carriage gilt in dark leather and silver inlay. The interior was a silk so dark a blue it was very nearly black and little rubies adorning everything. A mamluck would have entirely suitable for the carriage driver but her father had placed a glamour it so as to look like a reasonably normal human.

Morgan had been upset to see them go. "I would love to go to Agrabah dad! Nanny Elaine has told me so many stories about it. I would love to see the towers and the palace and all the street vendors…."

He prattled on about the sights and Sybil felt something clutch in her throat._ If only you could see them little brother._ She thought as her father asserted his refusal of his sons request. She waited till Mozenrath had boarded the carriage and gave Morgan a quick, but strong hug. "I'll bring back lots of stuff for you to touch, just like last time."

In a very uncharacteristic pout, Morgan complained. "Dad's letting you go everywhere now. Why do you get to go and I don't?"

_Because you're a liability. Because your defenseless. Because father has so many enemies who would hurt you and him through you._ But how do you explain that to an eight year old who just sees the unfairness inherent in the action? How do you tell him that in the end, it's all for their defenses, so that one day he can walk unendangered in the open crowd.

_You don't. You can't. You just hope he makes senses of it on his own someday._

Sybil had begun to understand how extremely uncomfortable a woman could be draped in yard after yard of finery over the course of a long carriage ride in a hot desert. "We could have taken horses." She said to her father. "Or even teleported."

"We could." Mozenrath agreed. "But that not how things are expected to be done."

"Since when have you ever given a jackals arse…"she started in.

"Since my daughter was about to be put in a position to become sultana!" He shot without letting her finish. He had been extra aggravated since yesterday and had set about nitpicking every detail to the last. From the carriage to her cloths her father had had the servants sewing through the night to give her gown he deemed suitable.

It was not a traditional Muslim woman's garb. It greatly resembled a fine blue and gold _sari_ that traveled to mid thigh with a black whale bone corset that forced her to sit upright at all times. She had refused to let the maid tie it as tightly as she had wanted. "I'm thin enough as it is. Any more and my waist will cease to exist!" she wore earrings and a necklace but refused bangles because she argued that her wrists hurt and she hated the noise it made. Her pants were the billowed fashion of the day and made from blue silk.

Her father had looked her over before permitting her to relax. "You should have let your hair grow out." He remarked, thumbing the curl.

"It's a bother when it gets long and it makes work in the laboratory impossible." She snipped, shaking him off. "Besides, long hair makes me look horse faced." She insisted.

Mozenrath looked her over again in the carriage. Sybil was surprised to see a sudden passiveness in his face. "You remind me of your mother."

She turned away from the mirror and (what was in her opinion overdone) make up. "How so?"

"She never knew how pretty she was either."

Sybil was seized by an urge to ask for more, but sixteen years had taught her better. Mozenrath did not talk about their mother. Sybil has never seen her or heard of her, though she knew she and Morgan shared both parents. She used to believe her mother was dead until her father came out from behind the doors of his bedroom one day and introduced her to her little brother.

She had never seen her father dally with the serving maids. In her early years she remembered only the mamlucks as their guards and slaves. But in the past eight years or so some of those who had lost their homes to the Dominion's expansion had taken refuge in what had seemed an inhospitable land. In need of a nanny for his new son, Mozenrath had gruffly permitted them to stay.

The sand was still black. They days were still dark. The mamlucks still patrolled and the Citadel still loomed as a great forbidding fortress of magic. But there were newly built homes and people in the streets. The volcanic ash that made the sands produced exquisite soil and minerals and farms were being tilled even as they spoke. Acknowledging Mozenrath as their sultan had pleased her father enough to divert the river under the cliff so that it brought water closer to his new people.

Sybil sometimes though of her father as a reluctant, semi-benevolent ruler. She had no illusions about his nature. Her father was a widely acknowledged evil man and did nothing to discourage that fact. She had seen him use condemned prisoners to further his undead legions. His dungeons went deep and she had not yet the stomach to venture past the first few levels to the torture chambers. Mozenrath demanded obedience and kowtowing in everything. He only permitted his daughter, son and Nanny Elaine any refusal. And even then it was really dependant on his mood. Disobedience was tantamount to treason. And his punishments were swift and brutal.

He demanded a hefty tax from his populace. Not because the money itself held any interest to him, but because it furthered his pursuit of knowledge and power. Sybil had seen him gone for weeks at a time in one quest for another and it had been left to her to take up governing the kingdom. Something she had (to some pride) realized she was quite good at.

_I wonder if I'll be as good a ruler in Agrabah?_ She stopped when she realized she was selling herself on the image of her as a queen.

_The problem with being a queen is that is exactly what you are. A queen. A second. A supporting role. _Her nature scowled at the suggestion. Playing second fiddle to anyone went against the core. _I will be his equal in everything or his superior in everyway. _She imagined herself, standing triumphant over the citizens of Agrabah, their new, sole monarch.

"_We can not accomplish this alone Sybil."_ Her father had spoken to her again about the Dominion. _"We need allies. Allegiances who owe us and whom we can rely on. And fear of our lands and my power…" _he had said with no small pride. _"…makes accomplishing that expediently nearly impossible."_

No. No sole sovereign regime for her. She was supposed to be focusing on winning this Prince Farhis for herself and joining their kingdoms irrevocably. _But then, a lot can happen in a year._ She mused, unable to let go of a little bit of that image of herself on the throne.

_Or perhaps he'll be ugly and lack wit with bad breath._ She suddenly chuckled in the soundless carriage and her father looked at her sideways. _Maybe_.

***

Farhis straightened his cloak for the fifth time in the last ten minuets. A banquet table had been prepared for the arriving royalty. Although the table was huge, most of the food had been located at the first eight feet. This was not intended to be a gala, but an intimate dinner for the two "hopeful happy" couple could meet under their parents eyes before going off for a year. Of course his mother and father would sit at the head with the visiting parents (or parent) on the right side of honor. Then, covered with plush pillows and recliners, was a special spot made so that himself and his fiancé would be force to sit closely and acquaint themselves with one another.

He tried not to let his mind wander to the girl from the other day. Jubair had been right in his warning. He needed to do his duty now and push the flirtatious memory down.

His father came in, putting a hand on his sons shoulders and smiling into his eyes. "Now remember, nothing is permanent here. Your just taking time to see if you can get along. There's no pressure so don't force anything for anyone else's sake." He reminded him.

Farhis looked up at his father and the kind warm eyes past the peppered beard and mustache. "I know dad. And I'll make sure to check my drink every night for love potions." His father looked fearful for a moment and then chuckled gently.

"That's it. Keep your spirits up. Just remember to watch your back and keep your guard up. I know I used to tell you stories about the adventures when you were just a child but they were no fantasy tales Farhis." The Sultan Aladdin leaned in close to his son. "Mozenrath is no laughing matter, nor is he to be taken lightly. Of all the villains, he used to come the closest to conquering Agrabah. He hurt people Farhis. He damaged homes and lives in pursuit of his goals. Remember that when you deal with his daughter." He thought for a moment, then added. "And don't let a pretty face make all your choices."

"I won't dad. Besides, I'm no bad looker myself." He had been told he was a handsome boy before. He had his fathers flyaway, carefree face and set jaw with his mothers warm brown eyes. His nose was strong but no dominating and his lips smiled and laughed far more than they frowned. "Maybe I'll persuade her towards a few things eh dad?"

Aladdin laughed at the male joke but then coughed. "Don't let your mother catch you talking like that or I'll never hear the end of it." He warned as trumpet blasts broke through the air. "Are you ready Farhis?"

The prince straightened his cloak again. "As I'll ever be father. As I'll ever be."

They walked to the top of the stairs at the front entry just as the horse drawn carriage pulled to a stop. Royal guards and servants stood on each step, holding banners proclaiming Agrabah's territory before these foreign royals. The royal family stood at the top, all six of them dressed in their finest. A footman opened the carriage and a long tall woman in a blue dress stepped gently out.

Farhis blinked. "No way." He whispered.

Jasmine looked at her eldest son. "Farhis?" she whispered, but there was no time, Mozenrath had come out and automatically glared up at the bright sunlight. His daughter took his hands and they began to ascend the stairs as though they owned the palace and were not merely guests.

"Oh behalf of my kingdom.." Aladdin said rigidly. "Welcome to Agrabah Lord Mozenrath."

"Oh we are most honor to at last be invited." Mozenrath could not hide the ironic tone in his voice. He looked down the line at the four children. "My my princess…I mean sultana Jasmine. You are apparently a fruitful wife."

It was slightly lewd and a terrible breech of etiquette. But Jasmine did not look shocked. "And where is your wife Lord Mozenrath." She said without skipping a beat. "Surely this lovely young ladies mother wishes to meet her future son-in-law."

Farhis caught his father hiding a smile beneath the beard. But that wasn't really where his attention was. It was on the girl in front of him with the wild blue hair. His eyes traveled up and down, trying to be sure he wasn't imagining things.

"Eyes!" Sybil said sharply.

Farhis's head jerked up, meeting her olive dark iris with almost convincing naïveté. "Huh? What?" he said, looking flustered. The sharp, heated banter that had been going on between the parents halted abruptly and the all suddenly looked at their eldest as though having forgotten they were there.

"Eyes." She repeated, pointing to her own with extra forceful gestures. "Are on my face."

Blushing like a kid caught in the cookie jar, he tired a convincing smile. His lips crooked rakishly to the side like his father's. "Sorry." He added a shrug, just for added nonchalance.

Sybil's upper lip curled and she gave her father an exceedingly plaintive look as if whimpering. _Save me_! Mozenrath frowned his head pointed forcefully back at the apologetic youth.

Farhis tried to save himself. He took her hand gently and bowed with sweeping grace, kissing her fingers with the lightest touch of his lips. "I am glad to see your eyes in my kingdom Princess Sybil." He smiled as he stood back up, the disarming smile that had made her smile before.

But there was no light in her lips at the moment. "I am so pleased to be a guest Prince Farhis." She said through gritted teeth.

Farhis pulled back a little. Had he offended her that much by simply looking at her? Perhaps she was the prudish sort like so many well bred ladies. He had assumed that Rashad's usual brand of crude humor had been what upset her that day but perhaps she was naturally ladylike.

As dinner was called and the group sat awkwardly down, Farhis resolved to be gentle with her. To hell with what his father had said. If she was that delicate how much of a threat could she really be? He offered his hand to help her sit and her promptly ignored it, setting herself down with ease and grace.

Perhaps the recognition had been one sided!

Farhis poured the wine for her and made sure to keep his eyes on her face. He hadn't been paying too close attention below the neck line, not leering at any rate. But she was tall and lean with upright, breasts. Her hips were a little wider and rounded out the back into a shapely…

Farhis jerked his attention back before she realized where his eyes went. His parents were continuing their clipped, controlled conversation while his sisters and brother sat a little further down the table and jabbered amongst themselves. He noticed Sybil looked down the table curiously at them. "You…like…kids?" he asked, trying to get a conversation going.

The table suddenly went quiet. Mozenrath nodded to his daughter, as if telling her she was allowed to speak.

The Black Sand princess looked annoyed with her father, but turned to Farhis and said "It depends on the child. Some I find horribly annoying. Others endearing." She looked at the three royal children who couldn't care less about their brothers current plight. "Some a little of both."

He felt a little more nervous. Her responses were just as short and did not prompt further discussion. Farhis looked up and noticed the eyes of Mozenrath glaring, not at his daughter, but at him. Instinct made him want to break the gaze, but something stubborn clicked inside of him and he locked eyes with the sorcerer. Not challenging, but simply trying to be unafraid of the notoriously deadly man across from him.

Mozenrath narrowed his eyes at the upstart young prince, but Aladdin looked proud at his daring. He tried to continue the light conversation but Sybil seemed intent on ignoring or cutting him short. She kept looking at her father plaintively.

_She's taking her cues from him. He's pressuring her on what to say and how to act. _That didn't set right with him. Her personality the other day had been bold and direct. He wanted to see more of that. "I would like to show you the menagerie." He said after dinner had been taken away. "Do you like animals?"

"Do you have any exotic species?" she replied, finally inviting further conversation.

"Oh yes man. If you will…" Farhis stood and extended his arm genially. Sybil ignored it once again and drew herself up as primly and properly as she possibly could.

"Which way?" she asked and as Farhis began to take the lead, she strode forward, her footsteps clicking quickly across the marble so he was forced to speed to keep up with her.

"I see your daughter likes to be in control as much as you do." Aladdin said pointedly.

"She doesn't expect to trail behind others." Mozenrath took a drink of wine and looked impervious. His eyes were following his daughter's form as she left and he glanced suspiciously at the boy now walking beside her. "Can I trust your sons intentions Aladdin?" he said bluntly.

Aladdin started to rise, but Jasmine saved the moment. "You want this marriage to go through, but you want to blame a seventeen year old boy for paying attention to a pretty girl." She said and both men turned to look at the Sultana. "Our son is as honorable as his father and would never do a woman wrong. He's simply trying to be hospitable."

"Mind that it stays hospitable during the tour." Mozenrath threatened. "I don't want grandchildren before this deal is finished."

Jasmine looked appalled, the words clear in her eyes. _If your daughter no more than a bauble to trade for security? _

Mozenrath caught the implication and lounged back on the pillows, smirking. "Don't act so high and might, _princess_." He let slip. "You're selling your son into this with just as much knowledge about the outcome. Don't pretend you haven't begun looking for husbands for those adorable twins down there." He indicated the two nine year olds who greatly resembled their mother. "I'm willing to wager a contract with…oh Getzistan and perhaps Qurkistan in the mix even as we speak."

Aladdin stiffened. How had learned about that? Of course the girls were far too young for anything to be set in stone, but there had been conversations. Sultan al Dentes son was nearing his eleventh birthday and the young Sultan of Qurkistan had a brother only four years their senior.

"Tell me Aladdin, have you already decided on a bride for your toddling son?" He smirked. "Not that I'm blaming you. The times dictate a change in personal policies."

"Otherwise you would never have considered this arrangement." Aladdin finally spoke up. "I'm shocked you didn't have her set up to marry some wizened dark sorcerer just to increase your own powers…"

"Both of you stop it!" Jasmine said in hushed tones. "Your acting like juveniles and we're all too old for that nonsense to begin again." Both men looked surprisingly chastened and hushed. "Everything is going well enough. Farhis seems interested in her and Sybil appears…amiable…to his interests."

"Amiable…" Aladdin began, but Jasmine continued.

"It takes women longer to warm up. A boys eyes naturally run towards the girls appearance before he begins to learn about her personality. Give her time and you know Farhis will impress her." She sounded assured.

"Sybil is not easily impressed." Mozenrath said cryptically and the table went quiet, all eyes turning towards the menagerie and the gardens.

***

"What game are you playing?" Sybil shot at him the moment they were out of hearing range. She didn't give him a chance to response before a battery of questions came down on him. "Did you know who I was in the market the other day?"

"What? No? I just meant to apologize…" he started but she pushed forward.

"So what was all that about meeting for falafel? You knew damn well you wouldn't be able to go anywhere, much less with a girl, once I arrived. Was it some game? Or did you intend to make me a bit on the side while you did your duty to the princess?" She was building herself into a tantrum, her cheeks were flushed and he could feel some strange force radiating from her.

_So that's why she was so silent at dinner._ He started to apologize but something else stopped him. "Just where do you get off?" he snapped back combatively. "I didn't exactly see you refuse that invitation and your duties are the same as mine!"

"I told you I was engaged. Shows what kind of honor you have to flirt and make time with someone's fiancé!"

"You didn't exactly seem pleased about the arrangement!" Farhis felt his own temper rise. He was not by nature someone easy to anger, but she was completely misinterpreting the situation.

"Even less so now." Sybil shouted and spun on her heel, continuing towards the menagerie. At the last moment she jerked around and shouted. "And your breath is wretched!" before stomping down the stairs.

Farhis made a noise of frustration in the back of his throat and began to head back to the banquet table. He got halfway there before realizing how bad it would look to return without the princess he was supposed to be escorting. A defeated sigh echoed down the corridors as he walked after her, knowing full well that no one in the palace walls would actually raise a hand to her.

_Even if they did, I doubt she's need my defense._ He chuckled inwardly, remembering the was Rashad had gone flying across the commons area. It made sense now of course. She was a sorceress. Rashad had as usual been way out of his league with a girl and gotten something a little stronger than a slap for it. Not that it would do him any good. His friend simply could not learn to be gentle to women.

_They are the weaker sex after all. _He reasoned. _You have to treat then sweetly, gently. You can't let go with lewd topics and offend their delicate sensibilities. _That what all the court girls were like. They enjoyed sweet flirtations and compliments. A clever joke or riddle made them smile and look flattered at the attention. _That's how women want to be treated. Like delicate flowers. _

Farhis nodded to himself, sure of his assessment of the female mind and headed onward.

Bad Beginnings


	4. Small Talk

**4.**

Farhis was surprised to see the dramatic change in outfit the next day as the retinue finished packing for the journey. She wore what looked more like a sorcerer's working grab garb than the regal clothing she'd donned before. A loose red tunic red that stopped just at her hips with dark coffee brown breeches that ended at her knees and full length boots. A dark undershirt embroidered with gold kept anything from being too easily viewed. Riding gloves and a belt seemed to be the only accessories she had permitted as she mounted the horse and spurred it on.

Mozenrath frowned at his daughter's choice of clothing. "You are supposed to be acting like a royal. Not shuffling about the desert in your work clothes."

"I don't have time for all that heavy draping cloth in the middle of the desert. I'll bake to death. And I'm not riding in some carriage either!" she shouted over her shoulder at the men who were preparing a covered couch for her to ride on. "I am as equal of an equestrian to any men man in this palace and I won't be carted about like a load of hay."

Mozenrath grabbed his daughter's arm roughly. "Don't forget our goals here, Sybil. You are representing me just as much as you are trying to win a husband."

"I can handle myself just fine,." Sshe said and jerked her arm out of his grip.

"I'm sure you can." ," Mozenrath remarked. "But a few reminders. Become his friend if you can. His confidant if possible. But do not lose your heart to him, Sybil. Not if you want to be a true queen and not just his doting and supportive wife." He locked gazes with her and drove his point home. "Make him rely on your advice. When trouble arises, be the one to solve it. And above all…"

"…do not give him your body."

"Father!" Her her outrage echoed. "I have no intention of giving him anything…"

Mozenrath waved her insistence away. "Aladdin was charming enough to win over a princess. I have no doubt his son has equal abilities." He took the jewel from his turban and his gauntlet flared for the briefest moment as a setting and chain affixed itself to the jewel. "Here. Wear this at all times. If you ever need to contact me, use your powers and I will respond."

Sybil looked at the necklace and slipped it on over her neck. "Don't use this to keep looking in on me. I told you I can handle myself. And it would be rather difficult to win him over if he found out you were cheating on the contract."

Mozenrath arched an eyebrow at his daughter. "What happened yesterday while you were alone with him?"

Sybil shrugged. "We talked. We saw the animals. I went back to our guest rooms."

Mozenrath nodded. "And…so far…what do you think of him?"

Sybil took a deep breath. "I think he's…"

***

"She's arrogant!" Farhis said to his father as they road rode along toward Agrabah's borders. "When I finally caught up to her at the menagerie she was looking at our collection and scoffing. 'Is this all?' She she said to me. 'When you said you had an exotic collection I was expecting gryphons and manticores. Not an elephant and a bunch of flamingos."

Aladdin chuckled. "She sounds just like her father." He put a hand on his son's shoulder. "She's going to be tough to win over. But just remember what I told you. No pressure."

"And remember that woman women are very rarely what they seem. She might be acting tough to cover her worry or stress." Jasmine said with a more knowledgeable attitude. Aladdin gave her a skeptical glance but Jasmine persisted. "We don't know anything about this girl, Aladdin. We owe it to her to give her the benefit of the doubt."

Aladdin looked doubtful but Farhis let his mothers advicse sink in. "I'll…try."

Jasmine gave her son a hug. "That's all that I ask."

***

Her disposition did not improve as they traveled. Their first stop was to be Getzistan, one of Agrabah's closest allies and friends. But that was a good week's ride from Agrabah's eastern border, and between the two kingdoms they would have only one another and their retinue as company.

Sybil had insisted on traveling alone, claiming politely that she didn't want to unnerve people by having mamlucks trail after her. In truth, she was hungry to prove her independent capabilities. It wouldn't do to have her father's servants constantly poking over her shoulder. There were tent carriers, a storyteller for the nights, several cooks and servants to tend to their needs.

She felt a little spoiled in all this company. There were servants in the Citadel, but in general Mozenrath didn't like people poking around his home and lab. Nanny Elaine had been the only one who remained day and night to care for little Morgan. Most of the servants tended to regular domestic duties like cooking and cleaning and never entered the top floors where the bedrooms, libraries and other doors best left locked were.

The young sorceress looked out across the desert sands. They had started out and at dusk and would be traveling through the night so that they could break during the unbearable heat of the day. Sybil took a deep breath of the cool night air and closed her eyes. The desert was a wild and wandering place in the daylight, but at night, where strange noises could mean a lizard or an ifrit…

She could tell even the guards were nervous. She debated telling them about her undersenses, the innate sensation sorcerers could feel against their spine whenever magic was near. If anything magically dangerous was near, she would sense it long before anything happened. All they were jumping at were the natural sounds of the desert night. Owls and snakes and rodents and the howl of the cold air.

The sound of a horse approached her and she saw Farhis riding up to meet her. Sybil

frowned a little, unsure of how to receive him. She had recognized him on sight at the palace and her initial reaction had been controlled rage. Just what did he think he was playing at? There was no conceivable way he could have known she was who she was at the marketplace so that meeting had been pure chance. But to offer her a date knowing full well that he would be leaving with a princess in a few days' time, possibly to be engaged and married!

It struck her as deceitfulness. Not that she had a problem with deceit, only with being deceived. But then he was right on the flip side as well. She should have stuck to what she knew was inevitable as well and refused his offer flat out. Perhaps she was being a bit unfair to him. After all, she couldn't shouldn't have expected less from him than she expected from herself.

So when Farhis caught up to the princess he was surprised to see her giving him that same appraising look. She pursed her lips and in thoughtfulness and suddenly looked forward. "So…how old are your brothers and sisters?"

He was so shocked it took him a moment to reply. "Well…er…Lalide and Nadell, their they're the twins, are nine. Bahamed, he's the toddler, he's three." Sybil nodded and said nothing else for a time. Farhis took the initiative. "Do you have any siblings?"

"A brother. He's eight."

"Oh. So, Mozenrath has an heir to the throne." He said it in a positive manner. After all, what every man wanted was a boy to follow after him.

Sybil stiffened and he caught a look of anger in her eyes, but she then relaxed again. "He will if I marry you,." Sshe said simply. "My brother, Morgan, is blind."

Farhis looked abashed. "Oh. Ummm…I'm sorry. I didn't know or I wouldn't have…"

"Of course you didn't know. Nobody knows anything about our family and that's the way _he_ likes it." Her tone left no doubt as to who she meant. Farhis cleared his throat and straightened himself.

"So uhm…it must be quite a handful for your mother then." He tried to steer the conversation. "I know the twins keep my mom busy constantly."

"Not really. Our nanny provides excellent care. She's barren, so her desire for a child of her own makes her treat him like the prince he is."

"And what about you?"

"I have long grown past the need for a nanny." Her voice was dripping with sarcastic humor. Farhis decided to smile. He had a good suspicion that that was her way of telling a joke. 1pt. Her lips twitched in response.

"I mean who treats you like a princess? Who takes care of your needs?"

"I do." She saw the curiosity in his eyes and decided to elaborate a little. "When I was born, there was no one in the black sands expect my parents." _Not exactly a lie. After all my mother had to be there for me to be born there…right?_ "My mother was…unable to care for me fully so my father was left to do the best he could. When I got old enough he put a spell book in my hands and I became as much an apprentice as a daughter." There was a fringe of bitterness in her voice, but just as much self -satisfactionself satisfied. Because her brother had been born blind, he could not read through the vast tomes that provided so much of a wizard's education. So Mozenrath had poured out his knowledge into his daughter. She was his heir, if not recognized by the Seven Deserts than at least recognized by her father's attentions toward her.

"So what's that like? Being the daughter of a sorcerer? Being a sorceress?" Farhis said, truly interested.

Sybil smirked. "Not enough magic flowing around Agrabah to have someone fill you in on the finer points?" she She tied her traveling cloak tightly against the chill. "It's not easy. You are constantly studying and learning. Every mistake can be costly and you make many of them to begin with."

"Really? You don't just wave your fingers and…" hHe made a sound that was supposed to be mimic magic in the air.

"Not in the least! It's very complex! You see, there are fives kinds of magical beings. Most common are those who are born ungifted and through a quest or blessing or sometimes even a curse somehow squire acquire magical abilities. This would be something akin to a fairy blessing a baby girl with a magical voice. Now these people can become more powerful, but typically only in their acquired skill. Like the girl could perhaps control an entire kingdom with her singing, but be would be completely unable to use any other kinds of magic."

"Second are people who are born with natural ability coming to them naturally." She indicated herself. "By birth on both sides, I have magical blood. From an early age I could from an early age sense magic, feel it rolling in my veins and manipulate it to my will."

"How?" Farhis realized the danger in asking that question, but it was the first time she'd said more than a sentence or two and he was determined to get her to open up.

"Well, most sorcerers start out with the simple manipulation of kinetic energy." She noted his confusion. "It's rather hard to explain if you don't have an understanding of physics. Put in more common terms, one can create the force necessary to move, stimulate, propel or maneuver the world around them. This could be something as simple as moving a few grains of sand…" Sshe demonstrated by making the sands swirl and twist in slow patterns in front of them. "…Tto a more offensive tactic." She drew her arms up and slammed them forward. Even from beside her he could feel the force emanate from her arms and the immaterial air around them surge forward like a sledgehammer. "Once these forces are mastered, one usually choices choosesa to follow a specialty. Elemental magic, Hermetic ritualism, Chaos manipulation…the list could go on. Of course, I followed my father in necromancy."

He shuddered at the thought. "The study of the dead. Didn't your mother have any objections?"

"Father was insistent." Her voice was becoming clipped again.

"So what about the other three magical beings?" he started, pulling her back in.

Sybil looked at him, almost surprised he was actually interested. "Well…after the naturally born are those who are created by magic. They are typically what you would call monsters. Creatures that would be unnatural or impossible without the aid of a powerful person or being behind them."

"Like mamlucks." He put in, trying to show her he was doing more than absently letting her prattle on.

"Yes! Exactly. Mamlucks are dead bodies that have been reanimated and follow the will of a powerful person."

"How on earth do you manage that?"

"I…don't know. My training hasn't gone that far. But I do know it requires vast amounts of energy. Father is always exhausted and starving after making one. He'll eat like a horse and sleep for three days straight."

"So all of the mamlucks…they were people once…weren't they?" Farhis was pressing his luck. He was not going to illusion himself about the people he was dealing with. He needed to know what to expect. And Sybil's tone would tell him a great deal about her personality.

"They were all living at one point. In his younger years I know for certain my father procured the specimens personally. But now for the most parts we wait till a prisoner is executed and leave him to decompose in a chamber. The corpses need to be old, you see. Something about one if the one dead is too fresh, the magic won't take and you end up with something completely out of control. Father said he got one once when he was my age. It was a bloodthirsty thing, kept trying to bite him if he got too close to the cage."

Farhis felt his gut recoil at the thought. A rotting corpse in a cellar vault, waiting to be turned into an undead slave. He held his stomach and shook internally.

Sybil looked at him sharply. "You asked. Don't ask questions you don't want the answers to." She ran her fingers through her hair and continued. "Then there are beings who simply _are _magic. Djinn, ifrits, elementals, guardians, they all qualify as beings who were somehow born from magic itself. They are rooted too it so deeply that their power reserves are far greater than those of mere mortals. They pull from the source itself."

"How can you get much more powerful than that?" Farhis said, glad to be off the sickening subject of corpse mutilation.

Sybil looked up at the star filled sky. "By being a god." She said smoothly. "A god essentially is the source in different forms and facets. Even the evil ones are part of the source. If you put it all into a hierarchy, a god would be at the top of the mount. Followed next by djinns and ifrits and such. Next would be those born with magic, then those created by magical personas. And lastly, those who acquired magical ability."

Farhis considered the information for a moment, letting himself absorb it as they rode quietly side by side for a time. "I always thought it was more complicated than that. I mean you should hear the stories my dad tells about his youth! The creatures he fought!"

"The categories spread out to quite vast arrays. You'd be surprised at the number of sorcery branches alone. Always looks for the next advantage."

Farhis coughed and sat up straight in the saddle. "And you chose necromancy."

Sybil gave him a sideways look. "Yes," s." She said firmly, with a small trace of challenge in her voice.

"But doesn't that get…ya know…depressing?"

She gave him a long, strange look and kicked her horse into a canter, moving away from the party and into the moonlight.

_Well that was time well spent._ Farhis frowned. _Creeped out and snubbed in the same night. _

***

Sybil closed the curtain front to her tent and fell exhausted onto the pillow bed. The sun was fiercely hot in the sky and it was only half way through morning. The retinue would rest till evening when the temperature cooled and they could continue without succumbing to heat exhaustion and dehydration. But for now, rest, sleep, and eat.

Agrabah had provided well for their guest. The tent was covered in carpets and pillows, a few tables and easy to carry pieces of furniture that were easy to carry. A servant had hurried in, casting frightened glances at her while she pretended to sleep and left a bowl of fresh fruit, sweetbreads and water for her breakfast.

The servants were scared of her. When she'd gone to dismount she had caught the look of the assistant, caught between duty and self-preservation as he fumbled with the footstool. Scoffing at his weakness, she dismounted herself and glared at the man until he shook.

Sybil lifted her hands and breathed outwards, leaving a layer of magic around the tent to prevent an unwanted guest from entering. She ate a few grapes and somea fresh pieces of watermelon to rehydrate herself and flopped back down, happy to rest, ready to send herself into blissful darkness.

_At least he was brave enough to ask. _She mused. _Most people don't have the gumption to ask about a necromancer's profession. He not only asked, but stuck around long enough to hear out the answer. But where to go from there? He asked about mother. But how can I tell him what I don't know? _

Sybil tried to think back to her earliest memories. Searching for some idea of a female presence, loving, or even ambiguous. She strained her minde for something, anything to indicate a mother.

_You'rer busying yourself with empty nostalgia. _She chastised herself for being so sentimental. _You have more than one purpose on this tour. _Her first objective was, to befriend or at least become amiable to the prince of Agrabah. She debated that through in her head instead of brooding over her absent mother. She did not dislike him. He was nice enough. Honest. Interested in her. But there was something in his manner that annoyed her. Farhis was constantly offering his hand to her. When she mounted or dismounted he was there. Hand outstretched and looked looking at her expectantly.

That was only the tip of the iceberg. They had paused during the early dawn to set up camp and she had gone around the perimeter and startedto begin establishing a boundary line. The spell was simple enough. It prevented anything dangerous from entering and would warn them in case anyone approached the day camp. A larger version of the one she had erected around her tent.

He had kept following her!

Not like a lost puppy or a trailing servant. No, he was annoyingly insistent that she retire to her tent or take a rest. When she began to take her own bags (not so much out of self sufficiency but rather that she didn't want fumble fumble-fingered servants messing with the contents), he tried rather forcefully to take them from her.

"Don't be silly. I'm much more able to lifte such a heavy load than you are,." Farhis had said, flashing his charmingly crooked smile at her.

Sybil had flared, angrily grabbed the biggest bag there was and proceeded to hoist it on her shoulder and carry it into the tent herself. She realized within a few steps that there was no conceivable way she should could have lifted this. Magically, her powers were impressive. Physically however, she was no stronger than your an average girl.

She carried herself to the tent on sheer pride.

_He doesn't think I can handle myself. He sees me as some simpering little princess._ Sybil sneered at the thought. _I can't have that. He has to see me as an equal. Even as a better in some things._ She suddenly wished for a dire situation where her magic could be beneficial. Surely that would knock some sense into the sexist little boy.

_Ah well. Barring a catastrophe…_They were headed for Getzistan first. Her goals there were simple. Mozenrath had already sent a priceless gift to the sultan in hopes of gaining some allies. The act had failed in and of itself, but one thing was for certain. If the black sands were amiable to peace, then the Seven Deserts could be made a great deal safer simply by that fact. She needed to stress that to the sultan and maneuver politically to win a more permanent allegiance for her future kingdom.

_Weather Whether that be in the palace or the Citadel. _

Sybil had always considered herself a quick witted girl. Showing him a politically minded woman who could negotiate treaties and win over sultans might make him see her value.

Something sent a surge through her body that made her jump from her bed. Sybil threw the magic from her body in a sudden gesture and the responding dome of protection echoed back at her.

Raiders!

Movement outside told her that she wasn't the only one that had noticed. Men were yelling for weapons and scrambling with horses to go out and meet the bandits.

_Fools!_ Sybil rushed outward. _Didn't they pay any attention to what I was doing? If they go outside the protective boundaryon they'll be vulnerable!_ "Stop! Wait you morons!" she yelled as the guards ran past her, Farhis amongst them.

She managed to grab his cloak, set her feet, and yank him off the back of the horse. "Tell your men to stop!" she yelled at him above the roar. Dust was clamoring from the west and the yells of bloodthirsty bandits was were nearing.

Farhis looked at her from his position on the ground. "Princess!" he said and moved like a cat, hoisting her over his shoulder and looking about frantically.

Sybil struggles. "What are you doing, you flea flea-brained ass!" Sshe pounded on his back with her fists.! "You have to stop them before they go through the barrier or they'll all be killed!" Farhis was ignoring her entirely. Sybil struck his shoulders squarely and winced as strong muscles made her hand vibrate.

"Here!" hHe said and unceremoniously dumped her at the servants' quarters. "Wait here till we've fought them off! I'll come back to make sure you'rer alright."

"Are you deaf or just stupid?" Sshe hollered at him as he disappeared beyond the tents, sword raised for battle. Muttering to herself about the ignorance of lower classes, Sybil got up, dusted herself off, and strode towards where everyone was gathering.

Apparently, the bandits had arrived only moments before the Agrabah guards had reached the spell line and were begin being successfully repelled by it's glowing teal mark. "There!" she barked at the men. They turned and looked at her, shocked. "That's what I was trying to tell you! I started casting that barrier the moment we made camp! If any of you had bothered to pay the slightest attention to what I was doing…or hell even better just **asked**…" sShe looked pointedly at Farhis. "…I would have been able to tell you that."

Farhis's face turned bright red in embarrassment and the rest lowered their swords with visible disappointment. "Err…how long will it hold?" he asked suddenly.

"As long as I have energy to sustain it,." sShe said shortly. "It's a rudimentary spell, but I doubt a bunch of desert thugs have the means to break it."

_Click click_.

The sound echoed like a fingernail on glass. All attention turned to one of the bandits, a raggedy looking fellow with crooked teeth and a leer on his face. He had clapped his hilt on his belt buckle to get their attention. The bandits were all sitting on their horses, looking suspiciously calm. Sybil felt a terribley sensation wash over her as he drew something out of his satchel.

A citrine stone the sizxe of a fist with strange sigils carved deep into it.

"Get…your…swords,." Sybil said in a near whisper.

Small Talk


	5. Confidants

**5.**

There was a sound like crackling electricity in the air. The barrier dropped hard, sending a whoosh of sand in all directions as the raiders surged forward. Screams echoed as swords clashed in midair and the raid began again.

Sybil felt air slam out of her lungs as a strong arm grabbed her and hauled her up onto a horse's back. "Wait!"

"Haven't you caused enough problems?" It was Farhis's voice, but she could not see him through the dust. He rode quickly towards the tents and dropped her hurriedly onto the dune. "Now this time _stay put_ and let the men handle things!"

Before she could shriek her outrage, Farhis had turned and headed back into the battle, his sword gleaming in the sunlight.

Sybil struggled to stand, brushing the sand off herself and muttering about the stupidity of people in general. A sharp whimper caught her attention and she saw the rest of the women. They were holed up in one of the tents, whining and kneeing like their men were already dead. She scowled at them in disgust. No wonder they expected nothing from her.

A death rattle echoed near her ears and she turned to see a raider's figure crawling from the battle. It wasn't a moment before he collapsed and vomited blood up all over himself. His eyes rolled into the back of his head and he went still.

A slow, familiar smile curled over Sybil's face. Without hesitation she walked towards the body, her hands digging in her side pouch.

She could hear the gasps of the women as she removed a long silver dagger and sliced into the palm of her hand. There wasn't much time for finesse. A sloppy job it would have to be.

She began rubbing the blood into his eyes, ears, and mouth. She then took a fine white powder from a small bottle and sprinkled it over the same areas. Everything began to bubble and smoke and the fingers of the dead man twitched spastically. Sybil stretched her hands over the dead man.

_Your ears will listen to my command._

_Your eyes will seek out my prey._

_Your mouth will howl my vengeance._

_Rise, ghoul, undead, servant. _

_Rise and obey me!_

Cerulean and silver coiled like snakes from her hands, arching and binding around the dead man and leaking into his orifices. Sybil let out a deep exhale and let the magic push deeper inside till he was filled with it.

"Rise and obey me, minion!" she spoke darkly as she stood.

For a moment nothing happened. Sybil frowned and kicked the ribs. "Rise!" she snapped in frustration.

The joints twitched and corrected themselves. The blood in his mouth frothed again and his rolled eyes jolted back and forth. The creature's eyes opened with the eerie blue glow as they rolled back towards their mistress.

"Take your sword and defend me," she commanded, and the undead dragged its blade towards battle. The first person it encountered was one of its old comrades. The poor living man shrieked in horror and confusion and forgot to defend himself as he was cut down.

Sybil moved quickly among the downed men. Within minutes a dozen stood, sluggish but strong to defend her. The still living retinue found their battle eased by the undead now frightening the rest of the raiders.

Farhis turned to strike the person behind him and froze when he saw a man he knew. Captain who had taught him how to hold his first sword and laughed gently when he fumbled with it. Face grey and limp, with eyes wide and unfocused. The thing that had been a man raised its blade and made a clean slice through the invader to the left of them. Blood splattered across the young prince's clothing and face.

It took him a moment to orient himself as the last of the attackers dropped weapons and took to their horses. Screaming cries of witchcraft and dead rising they began to flee. Farhis looked around in shock till his eyes met Sybil on the dune, her eyes closed as she muttered cryptic phrases that made her power coil.

Caught between fury and fear, Farhis pulled himself up and stomped over towards the princess. When he wrenched her arm forward, breaking her trance, he saw the first trace of vulnerability on her and was stalled from his original action.

Instead, he barked in her face. "What are you _doing_?"

Sybil stared for a moment, then saw the man with the citrine stone running towards his fleeing mount. "You!" she hollered and extended her power towards two of the creatures. "Get him! I want him alive!"

With speed the ghouls dropped their weapons and ran, instructed to move quicker through their maker's magic.

Sybil smiled till she was jerked back to Farhis's attention. "Unhand me you wretch!" she snapped and nearly slapped him. She raised her hand until the look on his young face stopped her.

Not anger, not even fear. Fury. His eyes were hard and penetrating and dark. His jaw was squared off in a masculine force and his fingers were digging into her arm. "What are you doing?" he demanded again. His voice was not loud or roaring, but smoky and quiet. Like he was barely containing himself from doing something unspeakable.

Something in Sybil's chest leaped.

"I was keeping you from dying, you ungrateful ass," she said smoothly and tried to twist from his grip.

"Those were my father's men. I've known most of them since my childhood!" he said, not letting go. "How dare you desecrate them like that!"

"Well they weren't doing anybody any good as corpses," she said in short tempered bursts.

"That's not the point!" Farhis finally shouted. How could she not see how disturbingly wrong it was to look into the eyes of a man who had taught him how to hold his first blade and realize there was emptiness there? To see smiling faces gone vapid and devoid of consciousness lumbering to his aid.

"Oh? Well then what is?" she twisted out of his grip and turned to face him stubbornly. "We were losing. I turned more of your men than I did of the raiders. If I hadn't they would have killed you and taken me prisoner…or at least tried to."

"How do you know what they would have done?" he asked suspiciously then realized where his question was. "How _do_ you know?"

At the sound of dragging they both turned to see the man with the citrine stone being drug back, a little bruised but no worse for the wear, between two undead beings. Sybil made a half smile and looked down at him. "Not so tough without your band are you?" She flung back his turban to reveal a bald head and small, watery eyes. "Chain him up and have him brought to my tent for questioning," she ordered as the rest of the undead came shuffling back to her for more orders.

Farhis made a disgusted sound in his throat as they lumbered forward and Sybil gave him a sideways look. "Fine," she said shortly and lifted her hands, speaking in strange phrases. The strange magic flowed from their open mouths and eyes and began absorbing back into her fingers till one by one the dead men fell to the sands with sickening wet noises. "Better?"

Farhis gave her a look of thorough distrust. "I thought you said you didn't know how to make Mamlucks," he accused.

"Those weren't Mamlucks. They were ghouls. Anyone who dies on unholy or unconsecrated ground can be made a ghoul with ease." She looked one over. "The problem is they're not as resilient as the high classes of undead. You can take them down by simply severing the head or piercing the heart. I made a gambit that the raiders didn't know that." She shrugged. "If I'd had more time…"

"Don't!" Farhis stopped her. "I don't want to know what monstrosities you would have made them." He shook his head.

"Do you feel betrayed?" Sybil said suddenly. When he looked at her, there was something strange in her dark eyes. "Knowing they betrothed you to someone like me?"

There was a lingering silence where neither knew just what to say to the other. It hung in the air between them. When honesty can be too hurtful, silence often brings more pain.

***

Farhis looked at the man with a mixture of curiosity and pity. He had refused to let Sybil interrogate him privately. He, the second in command of the caravan and some of his personal guard stood by, looking fairly impressive with their glares and swords at the ready.

But even he had to admit they didn't hold a candle to Sybil. She reclined in her chair, looking both bored and intense at the same moment. Her fingernails were drumming on the wood as little sparks of magic snapped in the air.

"Why did you attack us?" Farhis said first, determined to remove a little of the sorceress' power of intimidation.

The bald man looked up and shook his head mournfully, tears streaming down his face. "I cannot! I cannot!" he pleaded in Farsi. "Please _agah_, sir. I cannot."

"I detest whining," Sybil said and gestured. The two ghouls she had left around shadowed the doorway, looking in as the man broke down into uncontrolled sobs at the sight of them.

"Sybil, make them go away." Farhis ordered. When she looked at him with the words _how dare you_ on her lips he frowned and glared at her with equal strength. "Do it, Sybil. We won't get anything out of him this way." She shrugged as if it didn't matter and dismissed them. Farhis looked back at the whimpering man and spoke again, though a bit more gently this time. "Now. Why did you attack us?" he said and locked eyes with the man.

"We…we were paid to…very well…please sir, I will give you every last dinar if you will let me go!"

Sybil scoffed. "You're talking to the Prince of Agrabah, the second wealthiest country in the Seven Deserts. What makes you think your paltry sum could make him…"

"It was not paltry, _jadugar_!" He insisted, using the old term for witch. "It was nearly five million dinar!"

At this both the prince and princess sat forward. "Who would pay that much?" Farhis said absently.

"Someone who knew exactly what this caravan was transporting." Sybil answered. She reached down beside the chair and lifted a pair of hard, iron manacles. "These were in your belongings. Anti-magic manacles. I should know." She flung them at him. "You knew who you were after, or at the very least to use these in capturing me." Sybil leaned forward and lifted up the citrine stone. "And this too, a very unusual styling with which I am not familiar." She traced the patterns of the stone with her left hand. "You're working for a sorcerer…aren't you?"

The man bowed his head and started sobbing again.

Farhis glanced over at Sybil. Her eyes were focused and gleaming, as if she was excited by the prospect of a magical enemy. "That doesn't narrow it down at all," he chided. "I know my dad's list of enemies is as long as the day…"

"…and my father's is no shorter," Sybil said in agreement. "We need more specific information." Without warning she surged forward, catching the man by his collar and yanking him towards her. "What is your client's name?"

The man's cries turned into choking and he convulsed horribly in her hands.

Farhis jumped to alert with everyone else. "What are you doing? Stop that!"

Sybil looked up at him in surprise. "I'm not doing anything!" she insisted.

Blackness spewed from that man's mouth as he spasmed onto the rugs and jerked about in a frantic manner. A few moments later he stopped, eyes rolling lifelessly back into his head. A foul smell issued from the bile and servants began flinging the walls of the tents open to air it out.

Sybil turned her nose up distastefully and covered it with her robe. "Damn."

"What in the hell happened?" Farhis questioned her, his eyes all but accusing this of being her fault.

"He was poisoned, obviously. It was probably triggered by our questioning him. A lot of sorcerers use a similar method with their minions so as not to be indicated if suspicions are aroused." Daring to go closer, Sybil looked him over as the liquid began to smoke and dissipate. "And it's self-eradicating…" she said in a strange tone. "Done so I can't even get a sample." She stood up and walked out of the tent, leaving Farhis to follow her angrily. As the air cleared she uncovered her mouth and looked towards the sunset. "He's good. Practiced…powerful…thorough…" she began fingering the jewel around her neck.

Farhis took a deep breath and realized that his companion was more nervous than she was letting on. "We should move tonight. Get as far as we can before dawn."

Sybil nodded. "Yes. But I don't know how much good it will do us." She turned to face the prince. "He knew where we were camped. Where to attack."

His mind followed her's quickly. "You think he has sources inside?"

"Undoubtedly. Surely there was some uproar over our…engagement. Not everybody could have approved." She looked at him and Farhis gave a reluctant nod. "That's all it takes for some dissident council or senator to give a bit of information over."

"We can change course. This one was only decided on since it was the fastest next to the caravan trades. There are other ways." Farhis's mind started running over routes in his head. There were the older paths, ones left because they crossed more dangerous roads or because alliances had changed between kingdoms. "We could even skip Getzistan altogether and move to the next kingdom."

"No. No, we can't." She faced him. "This isn't just for you and I to get to know one another, Farhis. It's for the Seven Deserts to get to know its new rulers. For people to see our faces and associate us as the lords of the next reign. It could very well determine our relationships with neighboring lieges for years to come." Without realizing it, she had already begun to speak as though they were a wedded pair. "Skipping over Getzistan would be a horrid insult."

Farhis had not considered this and it made him somewhat ashamed to admit that. "I suppose so," he said defensively. "But from what it sounds like, they're after you specifically. You need to be protected." Before she could protest Farhis stood in front of her. "I don't want you riding ahead of the group while we travel. I want a guard on either side of you at all times. When we stop during the daytime I'll have your tent moved closer to mine so you can hide there if you need to…"

"And who do you think you are to protect me?" she lashed back like a snake. "In case you didn't notice we only survived this attack because of my magic! And besides…" she hissed out. "I don't need anyone's protection."

"Says you." Farhis stood firm. "This is your first time out of the Land of the Black Sands right? You've always had your father there to make sure you were alright."

"And what are you? Some hero like your daddy dearest?" Sybil scoffed. "You're a spoiled little princeling who's had his every whim fulfilled since before he could walk. Have you ever had to work for anything for yourself? Or protect yourself?"

"I've been trained by the best fighters in the Seven Deserts to defend myself and my kingdom…"

"All of whom went easy on you because you're a prince," she shot back. "No one on earth would be stupid enough to risk harming the heir to Agrabah's throne, Aladdin and Jasmine's little firstborn."

Farhis felt something sting in her words. Hadn't it always seemed like it was a little too easy to win? When the other boys of lesser nobles got to go out and practice their skills in skirmishes and outlying raids, wasn't he always told to stay with the commanders?

He was a prince. The future sultan. Nobody would dare risk him in open combat._  
_

Sybil knew her words had an effect on him and plunged forward. "Tell me prince…"she spoke harshly. "Have you ever actually fought for something you cared about?"

That was too far.

"And what about you?" he started in, pride hurt. "You stand around here so superior and dismissive of the men who fought to keep you from being captured. When they died to protect you, you defiled their bodies and used them!" His voice was raised and angry as Sybil crossed her arms and stared at him. "Whenever someone tries to show a little interest, or even just be nice, you act as if they're lower then dirt." Farhis knew they were being watched by the servants and didn't care. "You're just a dark, bitter necromancer like your father!"

_SMACK!_

There were gasps from the servants. Farhis kept his face locked in position, refusing to let his head move away from the palm. Everything went hazy for a moment and when his eyes focused he saw Sybil storming off in the direction of her tent. _Great. Just… great… _He grimaced, realizing how badly he'd botched things and how the servants and guards were whispering. Gathering his pride like a shield around him, Farhis headed for his tent and bags.

He made sure the flap was securely shut and nobody was around before digging through the luggage for an old, battered brass lamp at the bottom. He sighed and set about rubbing it halfheartedly, dreading the conversation to come.

A plume of bright blue smoke issued forth but, instead of a genie, a portal opened, revealing the faces of his mother and father alone in their bedroom, talking intimately to each other.

***

Mozenrath looked through the red glow of the portal. "Archaikos Sect…unpracticed though. Whoever made this wasn't very familiar with the script or the marks would be much more fluid."

"So this doesn't narrow it down at all then?" Sybil responded, thumbing over the stone in her hands. She had sincerely hoped her father would take one look at the trinket and be able to tell her exactly where it had originated.

"Not by much. The maker may have had limited training with the sect of magic, or have found the design in an old tome, or even have bought it off a neophyte from their order." Mozenrath reclined back and rubbed a thumb over his lips. He looked over his daughter and arched an eyebrow. "So…you created ghouls during the battle."

Sybil looked over her shoulder where the two undead still waited for orders. "Oh. Yes, I suppose so."

Mozenrath let a small smile slip through his masked face and nodded approvingly. "A rushed job, but hours later and they're still standing. Impressive as the class tends to burn out after an hour or so."

Sybil felt her chest swell. "Not as effective as mamlucks though." She couldn't resist mentioning the gap in her training as a necromancer to her father.

"Perhaps…" Mozenrath agreed and then promptly switched the subject. "How did the prince take their appearance?"

She felt her chest fall. "He was…inappropriately horrified." She crossed her arms. "He acted as though I'd have done better to let them all die!"

"Of course not. You did what needed to be done. It wouldn't have benefited us to lose your betrothed at such a critical time," Mozenrath said and then frowned. "But…letting him know some of the more gruesome aspects of your powers so early…not a wise move, Sybil. Not in the least."

Sybil sneered. "And do you have any alternative? He knew what he was getting into when he…"

"No he didn't." Mozenrath insisted. "This was arranged entirely between myself and the street rat turned Sultan. I specifically failed to mention your talent in our realm of magic. I was sincerely hoping you would show a little more tact in this." He waved off his daughter before she could defend herself and continued. "Try not to make him too disgusted by you to ever think of you as a bride," he said as the red portal closed.

Confidants


	6. FARHIS CHARACTER ANALYSIS

FARHIS CHARACTER ANALYSIS

-17 years

-short, wavy black hair

-friendly, comforting brown eyes

-tall, 5'10

-135 lbs.

-build is strong, broad shouldered

EXTENDED PHYSICAL CHARACTERISTICS: Farhis looks the most like his father. Rakishly handsome with a crooked grin and strong jaw. He has his father's nose and brow but his mother's warm, loving brown eyes. His hair is black and flyaway and comes down to about mid-neck. His figure is broad shouldered and tall at 5'10 most people his own age look up to him in more ways than one. More apt to smile than frown, there is an inner strength to this young man that has the potential to grow into something extraordinary.

-ELEMENT: Earth-Builds and creates. Constantly growing and evolving are central to it's nature. To stop is to die, and it's spirit is endless. Both extrovert and introvert at the same time. It is supportive and generous with it's bounty sometimes to a fault. Wiser than it would seem, it's movements are deliberate and precise. Practical, although sometimes seeming to be at whimsy. Long lasting and steady, it provide solid grounding to those who settle on it. True and sure.

Personality Type: ENFP

-The Inspirer

-warm, enthusiastic people

-see possibilities and become quite passionate about them

-motivational to be around

-broad range of skills due to changing interests

-strong sense of personal values and morality

-striving to be centered and focused

-strong need to be liked

-place little importance on detailed oriented tasks or menial labor

-somewhat inconsistent

-risk taking and sensitive

Color: Orange-outdoor lovers-down to earth-supportive of the underdog-adventurous

PERSONAL INFO:

-Heir to the throne

-Proficient in Eight languages and numerous dialects

-plays Sitar

IF IN HIGH SCHOOL

-would be one of the oblivious good looking jocks who isn't cruel to the other social groups, but doesn't really associate closely with them. Good at school because if he isn't he'll loose his spot on the team. Intelligent, but suppresses it because that isn't really cool.

BACKSTORY:

-being the first born son has it's own challenges, especially when you're the crown prince. Add onto that a pair of famous parents and that can be a stressful environment to grow up in. Though he seems to take it all in stride, privately Farhis is constantly worried about people's opinion of him. Is he living up to his father's expectations? Is he a good prince? Will he be a capable ruler? Is he smart enough? Is he capable enough? What happens if I screw up? (He gets this in part from his father. ;) ) He doesn't remember it, but when he was younger, Farhis was kidnapped by Abis Mal and held hostage for nearly a week before his parents got him back. (This is also why Abis Mal will not be featured in any of these chapters. He's dead. xD) This causes his mother to be overprotective and his father to have Farhis drilled in combat exercises constantly. Farhis has a lack of understand about the people of lower classes. Even with a street rat for a father, he has never really seen the hard core poverty that exists within his own kingdom. He knows people are poorer than he is, but the reality of what that means hasn't truly sunk into his mentality.

Farhis has grown up around princesses, courtiers, and the daughters of nobles. His idea of a female is somewhat limited due to this and his cultural ideals. Coquettish charm, shy femininity and sweet nature are prized and so he sees Sybil as something entirely foreign in appearance, baring, temperament… This is why, in spite of better senses, he keeps trying to get to know her. He can't understand why she refuses to act like what is in his mind a "proper woman."


	7. SYBIL CHARACTER ANALYSIS

SYBIL CHARACTER ANALYSIS

-16 years

-short greenish blue hair

-large, expressive black eyes

-tall, 5'8

-110 lbs.

-build is lanky, high breasted

EXTENDED PHYSICAL CHARACTERISTICS: One would have to say that Sybil look mostly like her father, but then again they have nothing for comparison. For the most part this is true though. She is pale and fine boned, with cunning, expressive eyes like black opals. Her nose is hawkish and her jaw is proud. She has plush, soft lips that look kissable, but frankly scowl more than they do anything else. Her hair and eyebrows are naturally cerulean blue and very curly as she keeps it cropped short to the head and out of her way. Serious by nature, she always holds herself straight up.

-ELEMENT: Fire-Burns hot, strong and dangerous. Tricky to control and deadly to underestimate. However it also symbolizes intelligence and progress. Can create a feeling of warmth and comfort if properly maintained. Is inherently egotistical, seeking to feed itself and increase in power. Blazes bright and fierce while keeping it's core protected by the glare of it's light. Quick to act to the point of overdoing it. Prone to sporadic flares that often burn out as quickly as it's begun. Overconfident.

Personality Type: ENTJ

-natural born leader

-quick and decisive

-driven and tireless career focus

-dislike mistakes

- little patience with inefficiency

-my way or the highway attitude

-though not in tune with people naturally, often has a sentimental streak which they perceive as a weakness to be hidden

-often a tremendously forceful personality

-great public speaker/debater

-need to be in charge

-assertive and innovative

Color: Blue-an emotional color-stays inside themselves and do not trust others much-moody and often immaculate

PERSONAL INFO:

-has a blinded brother, Morgan

-has never seen, heard, or otherwise any knowledge of her mother

-enjoys cooking of all things

IF IN HIGH SCHOOL:

-she would be the Valedictorian with perfect grades in all subjects. Probably the student body president that makes everyone tow the line and directs what activities will be held each year. Keeps a tight knit circle of friends that probably only includes one or two other people who she secretly considers her subordinates. Everything else would fall to the side if her projects or grades are threatened and even the teachers are a little scared of her force of will.

BACKSTORY-you think you're life is rough? Try studying necromancy from birth. Having never known her mother, Sybil's entire parental influence in her early childhood came from her father. He couldn't have been too bad a single father, as she is healthy. But as soon as she was old enough Mozenrath began training her as an apprentice in necromancy, a talent in which she has thrives and excelled to the best of his expectations. While she enjoys her craft, there is some part of her that is longing for more. Being her father's daughter, she interprets this as a desire to be out from under her father's roof and ruling a kingdom in her own right. She is ambitious, crafty, and thrives best when being challenged. She is also very proud and dominating in personality. She is disgusted when people don't meet her standard and tends to count everyone as beneath her until they prove otherwise.

To spite all this, she is very affectionate towards her younger brother, Morgan. Perhaps because of his existence she has a soft spot for things that are helplessly weak and fragile. She does have a sense of morality, but it is to the extreme, and much like everything else about her, very unpredictable. She is to some extent a typical teenage girl trying VERY hard to be an adult. Her father expects her to be perfect and she does want to make him proud.

She is an excellent cook, of all things. Most likely because until she was twelve there were no people in the Land of the Black Sands besides herself and her father.


	8. Getting A Head

**6.**

Farhis blushed to catch them in such a private moment and coughed to alert them of his presence.

His mother's face looked excited…and then horrified. "Farhis…Farhis what happened? There's blood…!"

Too late he realized he hadn't cleaned up from the battle hours before. He frowned to see himself so tactless in front of his mother. "I'm fine, mom…no, really…" he protested when she started to wring her hands in her gown.

Thankfully his father stepped up to the portal and asked in a calm voice, "What happened Farhis? Were you attacked?"

"By a group of raiders…" He started explaining, skipping through the parts about Sybil's dark magic so as to avoid further upsetting his mother. The hardest part was naming off the list of those dead on their side and seeing his father's face turn grimmer.

"I knew we should have sent more guards with you!" Aladdin said, voice full of self-blame. "And to think Mozenrath refused to send even his mamlucks along…"

"No, we refused to let him," Jasmine said, her voice uncharacteristically sharp. "We didn't want those…those things being associated with us in front of other sultans." She shook her head shamefully. "I'd give anything for a few dozen mamlucks right now."

"Don't!" Farhis said quickly, the events from earlier still making his stomach turn. "Don't…I just…I needed to let you know. Sybil said they couldn't have found us without inside information." They tried not to show it, but Farhis caught the sudden look of conspirators between his parents. "Mom…"

Jasmine looked away from her son.

"Dad…"

Aladdin sighed. "His name is Jamshid Darayavahush. When Mozenrath first proposed this union we brought it before the council for a majority vote. We were unwilling to refuse directly as we knew he would take it as an insult."

"So you thought if the council turned it down you could say you didn't have a choice."

Aladdin nodded. "But as it turned out, most of the council approved of the idea. Jamshid was one of the few who saw it as problematic. He said it would ruin our relations with the rest of the kingdoms. "Undermine my rule…"

"If it had just stopped at words that would have been fine. He's a councilor because his opinion differs," Jasmine said smoothly. "But his objection had a personal motivation."

"And personal profits," Aladdin said darkly. "The Dominion has been planting people throughout the Seven Deserts to subvert our rule. Paying off ambassadors to create problems in negotiations and traders to lose goods. Hundreds of little problems that breed instability in a nation and all of them can be traced back to the treasuries of The Dominion."

"But then why denounce the decision so adamantly?" Farhis asked, curious.

"Because if anything went wrong, people would recall his words and wonder if he was right," Jasmine said. "Subtle. Dangerously so."

"When we became aware of his transgression, we sent the guards to arrest him. By the time they got there, his whole estate had been packed away. We found a Dominion stamped coin in his vault." Aladdin clenched his fists. "Since then we've been forced to keep tabs on all our staff."

Farhis paused. "What about the guards?"

"They won't betray you," Aladdin said in a strange, hard tone of voice. "I've made sure of that."

Farhis decided to not think about that further than he had to. "What about Jamshid?"

"We haven't heard anything from him or the others we've caught since. But…when we began finalizing plans to let the two of you meet, there were problems. Schedules went missing. Notes between fellow sultans went astray. We were afraid of someone going after the two of you." Farhis got the distinct feeling he wasn't being told everything. Out of desire to protect him or because his father, as sultan, had to do things to obtain this information, he was sure he did not want to know. "We finally managed to get messages through…using Xerxes."

"Mozenrath's familiar? The eel?"

"Mozenrath wants this union, badly enough to cooperate with us in securing your safety," Jasmine reminded him. "That's why we provided so much for his daughter to be comfortable during the trip. But yes, we used Xerxes to relay messages. And we gave other sultans the names of those who were under The Dominion's pay so that they could keep an eye in their own courts for traitors."

"When Xerxes came back from Quirkistan, we learned that Jamshid had been paying the kingdoms visits, pretending to be an ambassador of ours. He'd found out that we were originally planning for you to visit Quirkistan first. So we changed plans the day before and had our spies misinform the right people to think you were still headed that route."

"But apparently, Jamshid has been one step ahead of us. Somehow he must have gotten the new caravan plans," Farhis said.

"I don't know how," Jasmine said. "We didn't create any. We informed Captain Babech to take you to Getzistan first, and not to tell anyone where the next stop would be until we contacted him."

"But now he's dead," Aladdin said. "Defending your life…I severely doubt he was a traitor to Agrabah…"

"Maybe not to Agrabah. But what about to the Land of the Black Sands."

"Farhis, there are few who think that the Black Sands are ideal for our joining of kingdoms. But this contract wasn't for making good neighbors. It was to provide ourselves with the protection necessary to keep the Seven Deserts independent."

"So you're saying he might have been loyal to me, but if someone was just after Sybil…"

"There's no way of knowing," Aladdin said with some anger.

"Yes…there is."

***

"Explain to me again why I should do this?" Sybil said, washing the day's grime off her face with fresh water.

Farhis looked at her firmly, rehearsing the story that would keep her from knowing his parents were in contact with him. After all, it had been in the contract that their travel was supposed to go without any parental concerns or overseeing so that old prejudices would not have a chance to ruin a new relationship.

"I've been talking with the men about the battle and some rumors about Captain Babech made their way in. As it turns out, he had some feelings about this union that weren't entirely positive. He may have been involved in the raid somehow."

Sybil laughed and gave Farhis a taunting smile. "This is where mamlucks have it over humans. They don't get a choice about loyalty." She started to walk towards him. "Even if I agree, what good do you think it will do? Maybe he was being paid to betray you…maybe he saw an opportunity and took advantage of a chance to get rid of me."

"Do you have any other leads?" Farhis said, knowing full well she didn't.

Sybil sniffed. "We'll have to stay here for the night. If I'm going to raise his specter, it has to be close to where he was killed." She started searching through bags. "I'll need some items."

"Like what?"

"Something personal…an item he was particularly attached to. Also his head."

Farhis blanched. "His…head…"

Sybil groaned. "You asked me to do this. This is the way it's done." She stood up, a black bag in her hands. She look at his face and could see the sick expression there. _Is this the way people see our craft? Do people think of me as some monster? Some awful person who desecrates human bodies and abuses their souls?_ She shouldn't have been surprised by it, but her father's words echoed in her ears.

_"Don't let him become disgusted by you…"_

Sybil tried to explain. "The heart is the gateway to the soul. But that's not what we need. The head contains the brain, the source of information. What your asking me to do is raise your captain's…"

"Babech."

"Whatever…" Sybil dismissed it. "You're asking me to raise his specter. The embodiment of his memories."

"Why can't you just use the whole body?" Farhis argued, unwilling to see the deed done regardless of what the man may have been guilty of in life.

"The dead often carry lingering attachments to their bodies in the transitional times. If I raise his specter and he sees his body in relatively good condition, he may attempt to inhabit it again. He would rise, something half-conscious and rotting till his physical form fell apart again." Sybil looked at Farhis. "You wouldn't want to see him like that, would you? If we cut off his head, he'll simply assume his body is uninhabitable and return once we're finished."

"I'm regretting asking this of you already," Farhis muttered under his breath.

***

Sybil aligned the tools around the circle of salt and struck the incense till it began to smoke. "You don't have to be here for this you know," she said to the young prince waiting behind her.

Farhis looked grave and sickened. "Yes, I do." In his hands he carried a bag, dripping red with blood.

Sybil shrugged. "Put the head in the circle, right on the stone tablet." In the center there was a stone, cut into a triangle, with glyphs written in smooth, flowing script. Farhis set it squarely in the middle. "Now, uncover it."

Farhis took a deep breath and winced as he felt the slick wetness of the sack. He undid the binding and let it fall away to reveal the face of a man he'd known since childhood.

"You can still leave," Sybil said with an almost understanding note in her voice. "Nobody who isn't prepared for it should have to deal with this."

"I have to. He was my teacher…"

"Even if he betrayed you? Even if he sold you out because he didn't like your parents' arrangement?" Sybil said. "Is he still your teacher then?"

"Maybe not…" Farhis said as he carefully stepped out of the circle. "But I am still his student." He sat down beside Sybil and looked with determination at the head of Captain Babech.

Sybil shrugged. "Suit yourself."

She stood and took a deep, cleansing breath and extended her fingers. Force strained slowly from her fingertips at first as the coiling magic began to seep into the circle.

"What are you doing?"

The glow snapped off like a heavy twig. Sybil glared at Farhis in irritation.

The prince felt his cheeks flush red. "Err…should I not talk?"

"Yeah. That would be smart," she growled and began again. As the salt began to absorb the magic it took on a glow, energies swirling into patterns and pulsing with magic.

Sybil began to murmur softly. Farhis listened, expecting to hear some strange language or secret sorcery, but as the noise around the desert faded out and hers pulled in, he realized she was instructing herself.

_Gently now._

_Not too much._

_Let it gather and take hold fully._

_Gently. _

_A little more…_

The salt gathered forward and as Sybil raised her hand in a claw-like form, it began to move across the sands and into the stone. The sigil there filled with the salt and began absorbing the dripping blood.

"It should only take another minute or two," Sybil said to the waiting Farhis as she walked forward, digging in her bag again. She pulled out two long, silver needles and prepared to push them into the dead man's closed eyes.

"Wait!"

Sybil's power landed against him and knocked him back ten feet as she plunged the needles into the eyes. "There." She turned back to Farhis. "If he sees you or me he could potentially try to take over our bodies." She looked at him. If we're going to be married, you should know. Never interrupt a sorcerer in the middle of a spell!"

Farhis righted himself. "Nobody said we're getting married yet!" he snapped. "And didn't it occur to you to _warn_ me before you did this?" He indicated the head that was starting to twitch.

Sybil rolled her eyes and then gasped. "He's starting!" she said excitedly.

The head rolled to one side, spasmed, than rolled to the other. No sound of breath came, but a dry wheezing, hollow sound that echoed in the night. The head of Captain Babech spoke. "I'm dead."

"You are," Sybil affirmed.

"Then why am I in this cold world? And why can't I see?"

"I have brought you to answer some questions," Sybil said and strode forward, careful not to enter the circle.

There was silence, then a dark voice. "I have nothing to say to you, necromancer."

Sybil smiled slowly. "I could just leave your head here for the jackals to feed off of. Your choice."

The voice dripped with dislike. "You are a foul woman! Your prince deserves better than the likes of you!"

"Is that why you arranged for her to be kidnapped?" Farhis stepped in. At the sound of his voice the head seemed chastened.

"I arranged nothing, your majesty! What I did was only to benefit and protect Agrabah!"

"By backstabbing and…" Farhis gave her a look and Sybil surprised herself by actually falling silent.

"You were trying to protect me, Captain. You were only doing your duty," he said slowly, convincingly. "But we have learned that the plot may go deeper than even you knew. Please. To protect my parents…we need to know what happened."

"I was only protecting my prince," Babech said again, though his voice sounded shamed. "They would not have harmed you! I had their word, my lord!"

"And I trust it." Farhis heard Sybil scoff. "So make good on it and help us…help me."

Babech hesitated, and it seemed for a moment as though he would not answer. But finally, he spoke. "The night before we headed off I was approached by a man in a cloak. He told me he had uncovered a plot by the foul sorcerer Mozenrath to conquer Agrabah from within. I told him to take it to the sultan, but he said that your father was too intent on this union to listen to advice. He even suggested that our benevolent sultan was bewitched! And he would have to be to put his own son at the mercy of a necromancer's harlot spawn!"

Sybil snarled and her power flared around her. "Shuush!" Farhis hushed her and grabbed her wrist through the energy. "We're getting close," he whispered.

"He told me that he had arranged for the girl to be kidnapped and taken away somewhere till Mozenrath could be convinced to release his hold on Agrabah. He said it was the only way. All I had to do was keep you safe. They weren't interested in you, my liege," Babech confirmed, his voice imploring even in death.

"At least not for the moment," Sybil argued. "My father is more aggressive, less likely to try diplomacy against a nemesis. It would be harder to control him without something he …keeps close." She looked sharply at the head. "They would target him first."

Farhis nodded. "What can you tell us about the man? Anything in particular?"

Babech paused, then seemed to tilt as though remembering something. "He looked familiar. I may have seen him around the council halls a while ago. But then there are so many ambassadors and they do not closely associate with the guards."

"Jamshid." Farhis said softly.

"Who?" Sybil echoed.

"A councilor who was opposed to our marriage. After finding Dominion coin in his residence, my parents think he may have being trying to subtly drive a wedge in Agrabah's politics." That was telling her enough without giving her information as to how he knew this. Hopefully she would just assume he came across this knowledge as a prince.

"So the Dominion could be behind this," Sybil hummed to herself. "Hardly what I'd call loyal service to the throne, Babech," she smirked. "Betraying your lord out by taking away a possible ally."

"You are no ally to Agrabah! Your foul sorcery will doom us all, witch!" he shouted at her.

Apparently, that was all it took. "I think I've had enough of you." Sybil slammed her power through the head, knocking it back off the stone as the glow vanished, leaving the area in darkness again. "We'd gotten everything we needed at any rate," she said dismissively at Farhis's dark look. "But what to do…" She looked pensive for a moment and then suddenly seemed to become aware of her companion again. "He betrayed you. There were no guarantees that you wouldn't have been killed along with all the others who fell. I may have been their target, but nobody would have complained if they'd gotten you in the bargain, I wager."

"He was my friend," Farhis said firmly. "He taught me how to hold my first sword. He gave me his own when I became old enough. He only did what he thought was right."

"You really are determined to see the best in people aren't you?"

Farhis' look softened. "I think everybody wants the best of them to be seen."

_What do you see in me? _Sybil frowned at the sentimentality of the thought and shrugged. "You can't just assume people mean well all the time. It's not pragmatic, especially not for a heir."

"And what about you? You see people as tools to be used. You'd think nothing of tossing them away when they're no longer of any use to you," he accused directly. "Is that how you'll treat your subjects? Your servants? Your husband?"

"My husband should be strong enough to take care of himself. My servants should know their place. And my people will know who rules them," Sybil stated firmly.

"That's not how you rule a kingdom!" Farhis yelled. "How can you ever expect people to trust your decisions? How can you expect them to follow you or have any confidence in you?"

"I seem to do well enough with my own people," Sybil stated proudly.

"Because you have your father backing you up," he said smartly. "No one would follow a woman's rule without their father supporting it."

"Who in the hell do you think you are!?" Sybil snarled, now sounding more like a teen and less like herself. "My father spends ninety percent of his time bent over his books and spells and finding the next powerful device! I took over the council meetings! I saw to the rebuilding of the houses and marketplace! I made sure there were fresh water streams and livestock for the starting farms!"

"And do you think anyone would have followed your orders if they weren't scared of your father?" the prince shot back angrily. "You rule through fear and tyranny."

"And what exactly do you do to rule your kingdom? What differences do you make? Or do you just carouse in the bazaar all day and try to pick up girls?" Sybil refused to back down, her teeth almost bared, her eyes locked ferociously with his.

"Why are you here?" Farhis dared. He balked slightly in hindsight, not quite drawing the line of what this had to do with the conversation. "Well? Why are you even here? Why are you doing any of this? If you're happy ruling your kingdom, why are you even bothering?"

She paused and gave him a long look. "Same reason you are, I suppose. My father promised me without even a glance in my direction and now I have to do my best to keep his word."

"I wouldn't force you, you know," Farhis said apologetically.

"You c_ouldn't_ force me." Sybil corrected and turned her back on him.

Getting Ahead


	9. Peer Evaluations

**7.**

The nights in the land of the black sand were clearly marked. Not by the setting of the sun or the passing of golden red hues, but by the chill that ran through the curling fog. By the patrol of the mamlucks along the main streets and the wind that ran round the covered stands. By the only light being that of the eerie crystals glowing on their posts.

People bought the last of their goods and locked their doors, more used to their lands now than they had been eight years ago.

"It is not so bad," most would tell you. "The volcanic ash is fertile, the water is plentiful. The sun does not bake your skin and the crime rate is very very low. There is always food and no one invades."

But the black sands were still lands of magic and sorcery. And the impenetrable dark that filled them from dusk till dawn could be full of any breed of creature.

Children did not sneak out.

Thieves did not wander the alley.

Only the dead eyes of the mamlucks walked past.

And in the darkness, something grinned.

Morgan felt along the basin and dipped the washcloth in the warm water to clean himself. Nanny Elaine could have done this if he'd asked, but he had wanted to.

He took a deep breath and reached outwards to where he knew the towel rack would be and felt his nightclothes by their silky texture. He undressed, bathed, and redressed alone, the world a dark swirling void in front of him.

But he could feel.

He knew the washcloth was getting too old by the coarse texture of its fibers. He could tell he was growing because his knees were cool instead of just his feet and calves. He knew the magical lantern was on because he could hear the almost imperceptible hmmm of power coursing through it.

He knew Nanny Elaine was on the other side of the door, putting his books and playthings away by the soft tread of her feet on the carpeting. He knew Xerxes was flipping around to check on everything because he could hear the raspy eel's breathing. He knew when he turned that there were nine steps between the basin and the closed door so he did not bump his nose on it.

He knew his father was pacing (as he so often did), in the upstairs library because he could _sense _it.

He could sense a lot of things he didn't tell people about.

"Ready for bed, darling?" Nanny Elaine said cheerfully as he emerged. "Oh dear, that nightgown is getting a bit short on you. I'll have to sew up a new one."

"You shouldn't," he said softly to his caretaker. "Just ask Dad. I'm sure he'll buy one for me if you ask."

"Oh it's not a problem, darling! I enjoy making them for you," she hummed and held out her hand to guide him, more out of practice than necessity.

Without hesitating, Morgan took it and let her lead him to the bed even though he knew there were twelve steps between the bathroom door and his bed. He let her tuck him in and kiss him goodnight as she set herself up in the entryway day bed to be there for him.

And…as he so often did before sleeping…Morgan _sensed_.

A wizard's senses are somewhat different from a normal human's to begin with. They have sight, sound, taste, tough and smell of the same degree as any other humans (barring cross mating with other magical beings). But little of this is of any importance to them. What really makes a sorcerer, are his _undersenses._

It was this that Morgan let loose as his body relaxed. He let it flow slowly from his own body outward, the flow of energy connecting him with everything in the room. He could sense the lanterns magical signature and for a brief moment was given the sense of a round, glowing object hanging from the ceiling by a chain link thread. Tassels were draped from it.

He connected with the songbirds, the feeling of soft feathers and chirps layering in his mind to show him a little creature with a beak and large eyes and fluttered about its cage excitedly, twitching its head to one side and the other.

Morgan let his senses run over Nanny Elaine and was greeted by the image of a rounded, middle aged face with kind eyes and crow's feet and small lips. He wondered how she would react if he told her he knew what she looked like. The thought made him giggle and she poked her head in from the book she was reading to check on him.

He quieted himself and turned over in the bed. It was fun to know all these little things about people they didn't think he knew. He stretched out his senses again and soon enough found his father's energy signature.

Mozenrath was in the library still, looking over book after book and muttering to himself about something. He tossed a book aside carelessly and Morgan seized up at the loud, unexpected noise. His senses jerked back violently in shock.

Mozenrath sat up suddenly and looked around, his face very aware and suspicious.

Morgan coiled his energy back around himself, retreating as his father's energy flared. As he locked it down he couldn't help but smile to himself at his father's sudden attention to a 'new' presence.

_He didn't know it was me! _Morgan waited until the energy died back down and turned to go to sleep.

Outside his bedroom, something in the shadows moved.

It slid through the city as if a bit of dust. It coiled about and chuckled to itself as the mamlucks went on unaware. As it reached the first crystal post, the thing crawled up the structure and scratched its nails along the crystal.

A light doused itself and part of the street went dark.

It moved to the next post.

***

Morgan shot up in his bed, his chest rising and falling rapidly. He'd just had a dream. Sounds and light and chaotic emotions washing over him at frightening speeds. He didn't cry out, but bit his lower lip and began searching for the comforting energy signature of his nanny.

She was asleep, book still in her hand as she snored peacefully.

He looked for his father and found him quickly right where he'd left him.

Somewhat more secure, Morgan began to pull his energy back to himself.

Something slithered into it.

***

Mozenrath raised his eyes from the parchment as the doors opened and a mamluck limped quickly in, looking about as panicked as an undead creature really could.

"What is it?" Mozenrath said, annoyed at being interrupted.

The mamluck began its customary gesturing and moaning. Mozenrath arched an eyebrow. "What about the city? It's always dark. That's the point."

The mamluck ignored the response and began pointing out the window, gesturing for his master to look.

Mozenrath looked over his shoulder and made a noise in his throat. "Why are the magic detectors out?" he snarled, very aware that of the three beings (mamluck, Xerxes and himself) he was the only one qualified to answer that question. "Where are the patrols?"

A scream erupted, the structure of the Citadel echoing it into a screeching pitch.

The bottom dropped out of Mozenrath's world.

"Morgan!"

The doors of the child's bedroom slammed forward, fire disintegrating them before they fell, leaving ash and smoke on the floor. Mozenrath ran forward, looking around the destroyed room. "Morgan! Morgan!" he roared, his voice almost commanding that his son appear.

The bed was broken, wooden splinters and torn bed sheets piled upon one another. Mozenrath frantically began searching through the sheets, looking for a hidden body.

No human being would ever see the look of terror as his glove soaked up the pool of blood.

A sound came from the closet and Mozenrath flung himself at it, his face looking desperately hopeful and falling in the instant it opened.

Nanny Elaine sat there, a knife in her hands, blood gurgling at her neck as she slowly choked on it. "I…I tried…my lord…" she whispered and began coughing till the red flecks splattered across Mozenrath's clothing. She let the knife drop. "I wounded it…but…"

"Hush," he commanded quickly. "Get her a physician. Now!" he barked orders to the servants who had rushed to the commotion. Mozenrath tore a sheet apart and wound it firmly around her gaping neck wound, stemming the blood. "Hold still." If his voice shook and his hands quivered, no one dared mention it. Not now. Not with the air going cold in his rage.

He began to chant. Mozenrath was no healer, but he knew some of the air. Enough to make the flow of blood sluggish and keep her conscious. "What happened?" he asked when she began to take slow breaths. "Elaine, where is my son?"

"Taken," the nanny gasped, her body freezing up as it went into shock. "I tried…oh god I tried…" She looked at the knife.

Mozenrath caught the blade and turned it over in his hand. The blood was of a thick, syrup-like consistence, tinted so red it was almost black.

The physician rushed in, pushing the stunned sorcerer to the side as he began trying to save the woman's life. Mozenrath ignored the transgression and stood, staring at the blood, the knife. The blood, the knife.

The world rushed around him as he sank against the wall, his body slumping to the floor as it sank in.

_Morgan._

_My son._

_Isolde…_

_They took our son._

***

The palace of Getzistan far surpassed any opulence Sybil had ever seen before. The rooms were spacious and had every amenity one could ask for. The bathtub was inlaid with finely cut tiles and impressive indoor plumbing. From the bed she could see the gardens and fish ponds with koi swimming around like paint brushes underwater. Her father was known for keeping himself in style. And Agrabah was by no means poor as kingdoms went. But this…

Gold, purple, orange and blue were the colors that hurt her eyes in nearly every room. Including her guest chambers. Tapestries, pillows, sheets, curtains, mosaics, pottery and just a variety of… crap!

_Just crap! Everywhere!_ Sybil winced as she opened the closet and was greeted by an array of gowns, slippers, tiaras and jewelry. All in the same blinding array of color as the rest of the room.

"Is there anything here that isn't tacky!" she moaned and slammed the doors shut.

"It's Getzistan."

Sybil spun around, surprised by the sudden voice in her rooms. "Oh…it's you." She looked behind him and realized the doors behind him had no locks on them. "They gave us adjoining rooms without a locking door?" she said suspiciously.

Farhis chuckled nervously. "Err... yeah. I guess…us being engaged and all they figured…"

"They figured wrong," she said and pushed past him into the other room. "Why does your room look normal?" she expressed. The bright colors and flagrant amount of useless items were kept to a minimum. The room was still rich, fit for the son of a sultan, merely less annoying.

"It's a guy thing," he stated simply. "This is a room fit for a princess…"

"I'm not a princess." Sybil grabbed her things and began transferring her luggage from her room to his.

"Hey wait a minute!"

"The rooms are adjoined and you're used to this kind of extravagance. If I stay in here one day I'm going to lose my sight." She walked in and breathed in relief.

Farhis stuck his hand in and swung the door back open before she could close it. "You can't do that! They spent days preparing this for you. Making sure it had everything so that you would be treated like royalty. It's outright insulting to refuse it!"

"It's heinous," she said flatly.

Farhis grit his teeth and forced his way past her. "Well so is your personality. So it's perfect for you." He grabbed her stuff and threw it back into the bright room. He had just about had it with this girl. "I have done everything I can think of to make you feel taken care of, tended to. So you wouldn't even have to lift a finger." Farhis put his face right in front of hers, barely having to bend. "Well it's one thing for you to treat me ungratefully, but I won't let you ruin Agrabah's relations with the other kingdoms! You are sleeping in the room they gave you!"

Sybil dropped her eyes and gave a pouty frown. She drew a line with her fingertip from Farhis's pectorals to his navel. "Well…we could always…_share,_" she enunciated the last word with a smoky tone.

The young prince flushed bright red. "I…ah….I wouldn't want to inconvenience…"

Sybil laughed a harsh, haughty sound. "You are such a _male_. That's exactly the problem. You act like I should be enjoying all this useless décor. Like nothing should make me happier than to be flouncing around in pretty gowns and jewels and waving my fan and batting my eyelashes," she sneered. "Is that all a woman is to you? Little arm decorations that twitter like birds to be near you?"

"Well if you'd at least act like a proper woman!" Farhis hollered back, flustered from her flirtation with him. "Is there anything about you even slightly feminine?"

"You mean like those dainty little princesses that greeted us?" She waved, speaking about Sultan Pasta Al'Dentae's three daughters. The girls were close to her in age but they had nothing in common. They waved and giggled sweetly when Farhis had politely kissed their hands and smiled at them but then received Sybil with cool smiles and thinly veiled snubbing. "Or are you just used to girls falling at your feet? Being the son of a great hero and all probably does a lot for your popularity level."

"It's not my fault your father kept you cloistered up like a vestal virgin," he defended himself. "And I was just being polite. That's what civilized people do. Or don't sorcerers learn manners in between raising people from the dead and talking to decapitated heads?"

Sybil's bottom lip twitched angrily. "You're one to talk. At least my father didn't do his social climbing through a princess's royal chambers!" She said it in such a way as to make the innuendo clear.

Farhis balled his fists and glared her down. "Better a street rat than some second rate magician!"

"You insolent little half breed palace pup!" Sybil refused to back down, her temper fully blazed and causing little snaps of magic in the air around them.

"Emotionally stunted bitch!" Farhis ignored the sparks and threw the insult back in her face. Some part of them both knew how childish they were behaving and he prayed the servants weren't close enough to hear.

"Sexist lack wit street rat!"

"Arrogant self serving waif!"

"Spoiled rotten princeling!"

"Motherless snot haired wizard's brat!"

Sybil went rigid. "What?" her voice was like thin ice.

He knew he'd gone too far, but there was no pulling back now. "You heard me!"

Everything went still. Nothing moved. Then, Sybil launched herself at him.

Farhis felt her slam into his midsection and take him down in a tackle. Without even thinking he grabbed hold of her wrists to keep her burning hands from him. Power radiated between them and they turned back and forth, wrestling till they fell off the porch and into the koi pond below.

Both came up sputtering and soaked, their clothes ballooned out under water and skintight above. The two betrothed glared at one another from across the water looking soaked and ridiculous and not in the least like two royal teenagers. Farhis had a lily pad stuck to his head and Sybil was covered in mud and bits of pebbles over her chest and shoulders.

There was a long pause, but Farhis broke first. He laughed, throwing the lily pad off his head and getting rid of the pond greens clinging to him. "Oh come on!" he yelled as Sybil began to try and un-stick herself from the mud. "It's funny! You can laugh, can't you?"

"You are the most…immature…" she sputtered and screeched as her chest began moving around independently. She started digging around awkwardly, her face becoming redder and redder as the son of Aladdin's laughter grew more breathless and less controlled.

A slippery leg finally met her hand and she dragged a large toad from her cleavage, grimaced, and threw the croaking amphibian into the pond. Farhis chuckled as the thing swam away and turned to the sight of his betrothed dragging herself from the pond and back into her quarters. "Hey! Hey, are you okay?" he asked as she stormed off. "Come on! Sybil…Sybil, you can't be that upset! Sybil!" She threw the drapes closed; there was no door to slam shut but she managed to effect the same degree of rage and insult.

Farhis ran up to the parapet but didn't try to go further. He yelled.

"Sybil, they're holding a banquet in our honor tonight! Are you at least going to come to that?" He called and saw no movement behind the sheer curtains. "Sybil!"

***

"Rashad!" The young man came over and gave his friend a strong hug. "What on earth are you doing in Getzistan?"

"Mother sent me to check up on you." Rashad said jovially and quickly looked around to be sure the nobles were engaged in their social talk. "And to give you an extra set of eyes you can trust. Your parents are worried sick about your safety and wanted to add someone they knew wouldn't stab you in the back."

"Well they couldn't have sent a better man," Farhis said jovially but caught the serious look in his friend's eyes. Rashad was not someone given to frowning, and that more than anything else troubled him. "What is it? Did something happen?"

Rashad took his arm and pulled him aside. "Most of this is only being talked about among the council but…there are rumors pooling. Some of the advisors are doubting that this marriage is worth the risk to Agrabah. If the Dominion is after Mozenrath's daughter, hitching our camel to her star could prompt them to act more aggressively."

"I doubt that. The Dominion is gunning for the Seven Deserts regardless of what happens or who we ally with. It might step up their timeline but…" Farhis hummed to himself.

"But it doesn't look good. Now nobody has brought it to light as an official debate yet, but once they do there is no way of telling how the votes could swing." Rashad shrugged. "Some think it's better to have such a powerful man on your side. Others think his habits have brought him too much attention and put us in danger as well."

"But what about Sybil?" Farhis muttered.

"Hold your horses lover boy! Nothing's been decided yet in any direction. For the moment, I'd say just keep doing whatever you're doing." Rashad paused. "And I'd guess you're doing alright….eh?" He elbowed him and gave a wink.

All Farhis could muster was a weak smile.

"Seriously? Nothing? You two have been alone together for a week now!"

"She's…complicated," Farhis defended himself. "She's not like any of the girls from the palace. She treats me like I'm an annoyance in her day."

"Have you tried getting strong with her? Some girls like to know who's in charge. If she's that type your whole rakish charming thing might not be doing it for her."

"I doubt it. We…we got into a fight earlier." He described the events in the rooms to Rashad and the court's attention turned to them as his friend let out a whooping laugh.

"Oh! Oh that did it right there! And you just laughed at her? No wonder she's angry with you!"

"She hated me before that," he affirmed.

"Oh come off it! You're impossible to hate!" He jerked his head. "Look over there…"

Farhis eyed the direction and noticed Sultan Al Dentae's three daughters, each one dressed in her finest and giggling as they realized he was staring at them. They fanned themselves prettily and batted their long, mascara covered eyelashes at him, smiling from behind thin veils.

"You're a charmer, Farhis, even when you are not trying to be."

"But I've been trying to with her."

"Well maybe you shouldn't. Girls have a knack for knowing when you're trying too hard."

Farhis looked at his friend in surprise. "Why Rashad! You may actually know something about women!"

Rashad laughed with good humor. "I know, right. Don't tell anyone though, I have a reputation to keep up."

Suddenly everything went silent in the hall. A figure stood at the entry way, dressed in a strange gown of deep black embroidery laid over indigo blues and purples. Her hair had been done. The short, flyaway curls now hanging in little ringlets around her face. The sultan must have provided her with a servant or something because Farhis had yet to see her apply make-up during their trip.

"Damn," Rashad said under his breath.

Sybil looked elegant, poised, and as fashionable as a princess bred to wear such drapery. But it wasn't how beautiful she looked that made him stare along with the rest of the court (well…not just that).

It was the first time he'd seen her look so nervous.

_Don't fidget,_ Sybil warned herself quickly as she descended into the waiting crowd. The palace staff had insisted on dressing her for the banquet gala as they had put it 'befits one of your station'. In her opinion the corset was too tight, the gloves were too long, the gel in her hair could be used to preserve mummy organs and she felt like she was wearing an extra skin on her face.

That's when she realized how many of the men were looking directly at her.

She had barely heard her name announced when a man with a dark black beard and green eyes about ten years her senior extended his hand. "My lady. It would be an honor to have the first dance with you." He proclaimed as his bejeweled hand awaited hers.

Sybil frowned at the overtly courtly gesture but quickly felt the eyes of the local nobility on her. Whispers were hidden with fans and palms but she caught snippets of the conversation.

_... a prince of one of Getzistan's allies…_

…_obviously doesn't know who __**she**__ is…_

…_such an insult not to take his hand…_

…_couldn't he offer __**me **__the first dance? I outrank her…_

…_look at her…Mozenrath's little necromancer brat…_

…_she looks positively terrified!... *snicker* _

…_I wonder if he'll feel bone when she touches him?..._

Sybil reddened at the last remark and laid her hand gently in his own. "You honor me, Princess," he said and swung her out onto the dance floor, his hand gently placed at her hip with a dominant but non-offensive touch.

Rashad whistled. "Maybe she just likes older men?" he suggested.

Farhis felt his temperature rise. "It's completely against protocol. She's supposed to dance with me first. I'm her fiancée after all."

His friend grinned. "So you _do_ like her! Hey, don't look so sour. She's not filled out enough for me but I guess she's kinda pretty from some perspective. Fair skinned and large dark eyes. And that unusual shade of hair…"

Farhis rolled his eyes and realized one of the princesses he'd seen earlier had wound her way to him. "Hello your majesty." She bowed. "Do you like the hospitality of our little kingdom so far?"

He snapped back into royalty mood almost without effort. "Hardly little princess. After all, Getzistan's economy surpasses all of the Seven Deserts and a great deal of the world."

"Oh I don't worry my head over such things." She laughed delicately and fanned herself. "It isn't a princess's place to worry herself over men's affairs." She nudged closer as more of the crowd began to take the dance floor. "I only hope to marry an intelligent man who can keep his kingdom as wealthy as my father's."

"You are not yet married Princess…?"

"Sharife," she said and batted her eyes at him. "The middle daughter. So very likely the second to be betrothed. And with an older sister as picky as our Labeite…" She gestured to her sister who was picking up each individual entrée, biting it, and tossing it back on the tray. "It may be a while."

Farhis chuckled. "Would you care to dance, Princess Sharife?"

She fanned herself quickly, shock in her sweet chocolate eyes. "With your fiancée right there! Oh but how could I dare…"

"As you can see my fiancée doesn't hold much by protocol," Farhis answered darkly. "And besides I doubt she'd care about one innocent little dance." He smiled and she shyly took his hand.

Sybil was surprised to find herself actually enjoying her dance partner's company. He was a foreign prince, far enough away not to let his opinion of her be hampered by knowledge of her paternity. And while not a sorcerer himself, he had some knowledge on the subject.

"I'm afraid my family just isn't gifted with magic…" he explained with a shrug. "But we make up for it by employing several sorcerers, magicians, astronomers…ah you would truly enjoy our library, Princess Sybil. Tomes so large it takes four men to carry them to a table. Histories and compendiums on top of one another."

"It sounds fascinating," Sybil said, for once not faking interest. "I will have to make plans to visit some time. My father and I both have a dear love for knowledge."

"And your soon-to-be husband as well I presume?" he nodded towards Farhis and the princess.

Sybil looked over at the buxom girl he was spinning and laughing with. "I'm sure my _husband_ would have to attend to other matters." She stiffened and lost her steps.

"Are you tired? Perhaps you'd like to sit a while?" he offered.

"I'm fine. I wouldn't keep you from the party," she insisted and went to go get a drink, leaving the foreign prince with a new dance partner. _Well that wasn't entirely a waste of time. I discovered I can actually enjoy someone's company when they're not behaving like a complete and total ass…_

"Oh my. don't you look so fetching!"

The voice was exaggerated and high, setting Sybil's teeth on edge. She turned to see the princess Farhis had been dancing with and her sisters, one flanking each side, looking at her with plastered smiles on their faces.

"Really, you do. Such a regal gown…" Sharife said smoothly. "Oh but I see they had to tie it quite tightly in the back. It was once mine you know and I supposed we're…er…not the same size…in most places." She moved her shoulders so as to accentuate her ample bosom.

Sybil managed to turn a sneer into a sweet smile. "Oh yes. I'm afraid I'm not quite so round as you and your sisters are. They had to cut some of the fabric from the waist before tying it off."

Sharife's older sister betrayed her with a laugh but the middle princess gave a scowl so dark it rivaled shadows. "Of course darling. But…my, those colors are a bit dark on you. Perhaps if you weren't so pallid…they do wash you out a bit."

"Oh pale is the way to go dear," she shot back quickly. "I mean unless you enjoy looking like an old, used leather bag by age twenty five."

"He doesn't like you, you know."

Sybil paused, stunned by the sudden loss of pretense.

"Who could blame him? You're a skinny little corpse girl. How would you even bear him children?" Sharife whispered icily so no one near could hear her. "And what's with your hair? Did your father try and drown you in the ocean when you were young?" she laughed cruelly and her sisters followed suit. "I wouldn't be the least bit surprised if he's already disgraced you. Sorceresses are known for their _loose_ morals after all."

"You're one to talk. Out there ramming your tits into his chest and batting those gaudy eyelashes at him from behind a fan. You're like a mating cat. Yowling and sticking her arse up in the air waiting for someone…_anyone_…to give in." Sybil grinned a little as the princess's face went pale with rage.

Sharife grasped the nearest cup and tossed its contents over Sybil's face and hair. "Oops!" she cried just loudly enough for those around to turn. "Oh you poor thing." She said sympathetically and grabbed a napkin as the hair gel and makeup began to run down Sybil's face and stain her clothing. "Perhaps it's best if you went and got cleaned up." Then she turned and whispered to the nearest person. "Sorcerer's daughter, you know. Poor thing is barely civilized."

Sparks snapped from her fingertips and heat crisped the air around Sybil as she felt her temper growing. _No! _Something inside her said firmly. _Do it and you'll just prove her right! Do it and you'll ruin any chance you have of becoming a sultana!_ The gasps of those who could see the blue green flames along her fingertips confirmed this. Though she was tempted to hold out a bit longer just to enjoy the look of sheer terror on Sharife's face.

"You're so right, princess," she said stiffly, drawing herself up with every ounce of dignity. "And on the dress you were so kind to lend me as well. I do hope nothing happens to the next of your dresses I choose." She spun on her heel and walked off the porch and into the gardens, keeping her posture firm and strict, aware of the eyes on her back, the whispering all around her as party guests tried to figure out how she'd come to be covered in wine and makeup.

…_goodness…_

…_isn't she a sight! Clothes all stained…_

…_I'd heard those wizards were uncivilized but starting a fight at a gala in her honor…_

…_filthy little brat…_

She bit her lip and felt her fingernails digging hard into her palms. Her eyes were stinging and something tasted salty on her lips.

_No!_

She ducked into the gardens and behind the bushes. _No! No! No! No! Stop it! Stop it right this instant Sybil!_ She yelled at herself internally as the tears kept flowing. _You are being a complete idiot! Crying over what some spoiled little nobody said to you!_ She bit down hard, gritting her teeth and clenching her fists for some sense of control. She sank down behind a large clump of bushes and pounded her fists into the grass. _You do not cry! You have never cried! Do not start now! Not because of this!_ She commanded herself and began forcing her lungs to breathe smoothly instead of taking huge choking sobs.

"Sybil?"

She felt fear charge through her body as Farhis' voice interrupted her thoughts from the other side of the bush.

Peer Evaluations


	10. Little Victories

**8.**

Farhis looked around the garden, trying to remain polite as so many people who knew his father came forward to offer their admiration. He shrugged them off as politely as possible and followed the direction in which he'd seen Sybil run.

After his dance with Princess Sharife had finished, he had watched her (out of curiosity if nothing else) as she made a beeline directly for Sybil. He hadn't gotten closer, but the posture and facial expressions told him enough. At first he had intended to run over and chastise Sybil. Keep her from starting a war with one of Agrabah's closest allies. But before he could make it close she had run off, and it had been then that he caught a glimmer in her eyes.

She was crying.

"Sybil!" he called out, leaving the lights and music behind. "Sybil, where are you?"

A movement behind the bushes.

"Sybil?" Farhis walked up and saw a familiar figure crouching, trying to remain as still and hidden as possible. He paused, every instinct telling him that she wouldn't forgive him for barging in on her while being so vulnerable. _But you can't just leave her, _his nature argued. A moment later he sat down in the grass on the other side of the bush, just close enough to hear her breathing.

"What do you want?" she said after a minute, realizing he would not go away.

"I want to know what happened," Farhis answered, hearing the constriction in her voice.

"What happened? Nothing. I had a lovely exchange of pleasantries with a fellow royal family. That's all," she said stiffly.

That told him enough. Farhis sighed and tried to think of what to say. This wasn't easy. He had wanted her to show some femininity, but this…this was uncomfortable. She was so proud and resilient it seemed impossible that a few insults could have offended her so badly. _Maybe it's not a time to take this as feminine. Maybe…it just shows that she's human. _He hummed and relaxed against the topiary, making the branches rustle.

"When I was younger, my dad wasn't as acknowledged as he is now. Other royals would come to visit and bring their families to stay for a while. But…they always paid more attention to my mother, Jasmine. My father sat on the throne and they bowed, but it was really my mom they wanted to talk to, her advice they acknowledged before his. But I was a kid. I didn't notice that."

He looked behind him a little and saw that she was being quiet, listening.

"I noticed they wouldn't allow their children to play with me. Sometimes it was hidden, like telling me they had studies to attend to or royal duties. But when it really hit was on this one day I was floating a boat in the fish pond. One of the nobles had brought his son with him and he loved boats. We played all afternoon until his father caught us. He snatched him away and when I ran to find out why my friend couldn't play anymore I heard him say, 'We don't engage with the lower births.'"

Sybil was now looking at him through the branches, her face close to sympathy.

Farhis continued. "It was the first time I'd realized what being half street rat meant. It's gotten better since then. My dad really came into his own when I was around ten. He starting showing what he could really be as a sultan. Expanded the kingdom's borders, increased trade revenue, instituted better policies and laws. I don't think my sisters and brother will have to worry about the same thing. But I still hear it sometimes, when people don't think I'm listening."

'He's quite bright for the son of a street rat.'

'Not bad for a thief's son.'

'I suppose that's all we can expect given his paternity.'

Sybil stayed silent.

Farhis stood up, not trying to provoke her any further. "Anyhow, I just wanted you to know that about me." He walked away slowly, giving her time to come with him if she wanted, but not pushing.

"Oh your majesty!"

Farhis turned at the voice the moment he entered. Princess Sharife waved at him with a napkin taken from her cleavage.

She took his arm insistently. "Where is your pretty little sorceress friend? Did she tire from all the dancing? I mean, she is such a frail thing."

Farhis gave her a frown so ugly that Sharife released him with a jolt. "I expected better from a lady of your _quality_," he whispered so that only she could hear. "Especially in regards to hospitality towards honored guests in your father's household." He moved away from her, leaving the young woman looking confused and embarrassed. He took his place at the right hand of the sultan, the seat reserved for dignitaries.

The seat beside him lay empty as the banquet was served.

Just as the Getzistan sultan started to make his speech welcoming his visitors, a figure walked through the banquet doors.

Farhis smiled a little at the outfit. A tunic cut top of dark blue trimmed with silver and black breeches that stopped at knee high boots. A red sash around her waist gave her some curvature and when she sat people began whispering at the similarity between her outfit and her father's. She wore only a little makeup and her hair had been fixed. She looked even more regal now, but with an air of authority as opposed to doll-like resplendence.

"Forgive me, your majesty." Sybil said with a bow to the aging Sultan. "After the incident I didn't want to risk any more of your daughter's generosity. So I decided to change into something a little less opulent."

"Quite all right my dear!" Pasta Al'Dentae stammered, nervous to be reminded so blatantly about who he was hosting. "As I was saying…such a joy to see kingdoms brought into peaceable relationships…" he hurried on, trying to fall back into his speech.

Sybil sat down gently next to Farhis, locking her eyes on the speaking man as the prince next to her smiled a little more confidently.

"That looks good on you," he said in a whisper as people began to eat, the clinking of forks covering their tones.

"This or that monstrosity I was wearing?"

"Both. But this one suits you better," he said cleverly.

Sybil looked at him and let a smile slide to the corners of her cheeks. "You look nice too."

Farhis felt something in his chest strengthen. "Sybil…I—"

"Later," she said quickly and began filling her plate with food.

***

Farhis spent the rest of the evening on edge. They were surrounded by people almost constantly, some asking questions, others simply curious about him and Sybil. But aside from Sharife shooting them both hateful looks, Sybil seemed to be doing fairly well. People were hesitant to talk to her at first, but as Farhis engaged her more and more in conversation, she smiled.

That made all the difference.

But there was still no time to talk in private. Even as they went to their rooms they were accompanied by guards and one of the Sultan's advisors (who commented several times on how s_urprisingly charming_ Sybil could be despite her wincing whenever he said it). They were seen to their rooms and Sybil nodded to him ever so slightly as the doors closed.

She had said later.

It wasn't until midnight that the door to the adjoining rooms opened.

"What? I don't at least warrant a knock or anything?" he said jokingly as Sybil came in.

"I'm not good at this," she said bluntly, the words spilling out with uncharacteristic quickness. "I'm not good at any of this. The galas, the nobility, the girl versus girl thing…"

"Oh I think you're pretty good at that part," Farhis stopped her. "Sharife must have been pretty rattled to have thrown red wine on her own dress." He put down the book he'd been glancing over and sat down on the plush pillows they'd provided for relaxation.

"Well if the wine hadn't ruined it the fire certainly would have," Sybil said nonchalantly.

"The fire…? You didn't!" He said, sounding a little more amused than he really should have been.

She shrugged but the look in her eyes was decidedly mischievous. "The less you know the better. You're technically a diplomat." She walked over and sat opposite him. "I haven't been much of a fiancée on this trip. And a lot of that is because I feel like this is already set in stone so…"

"Why bother trying?" Farhis finished. "I'm not exactly making it easy for you either." He admitted sheepishly. "I always used to tell myself I wanted to marry a woman different from those princesses. Most of them are just like Sharife. Prancing around in daddy's jewels and acting innocent. But then I meet you and you're nothing like any of them and we're already engaged…and it wasn't our choice."

"I don't know if I ever wanted to marry." Sybil said honestly. "I suppose it seemed like something far away and unimportant. Father and I were always in the lab, studying, practicing, improving on our power. And when Morgan was born I felt like father would leave the Citadel and the Black Sands to me since it was obvious that my brother wouldn't be able to hold them against enemies. I started preparing myself for that day."

"You wanted to rule in your own right?" Farhis said and then realized how shocked he must have sounded.

Sybil arched her eyebrow but let the male dominated comment slide. "I wasn't doing a half bad job at it. Father always did prefer sorcery over diplomacy. So much of the day-to-day functioning fell to me."

"And Mozenrath just let you take over like that? Sorry, but it doesn't seem much like his personality."

"Didn't you hear? He mostly doesn't care about that stuff. He holds court about once a month if he feels like it, and then only if he feels the petitions are worth it." Sybil held herself with some pride.

"And to think he wanted to rule the Seven Deserts."

"Subjugate is more like it," Sybil scoffed. "As if that ever works. And even if it did, who would want to deal with the problems of an entire continent! Can you imagine it? Every day some issue compounded on itself times seven with as many people yelling about it in your ears!" She threw up her hands in disgust. "There aren't enough mamlucks to keep that crowd in control if you raided every graveyard from here to Calcutta."

"Or guards," Farhis interjected. "Do you know why I only have two friends? Because I've found out that most of the people who try to get close to me are just a) weaseling their way into the court or b) trying to get me to support whatever objective they've got." He flopped back against the cushions. "It's maddening not knowing who to trust and who's out to get you! Everybody has a goal in mind when they're talking and **god** they're experts at slipping it into conversations."

"People are typically too afraid of me to pull a stunt like that. And when they're not…" Sybil grinned till her teeth were bared. "I remind them why they should be."

Farhis looked worried.

"Oh it's nothing that bad. I'd just rather someone be honest with me about their requests. It's so much more direct than pretending to be my friend," Sybil explained.

Farhis chuckled. "You do realize what we're doing don't you?" he asked gently.

Sybil paused, looking entirely confused. "What?"

"We're having a conversation without screaming at each other," Farhis pointed out, obviously pleased with the fact.

"Well, I haven't tried to raise anyone from the dead in almost three days. That may have something to do with the fact," the necromancer girl reasoned and smirked a little till she saw Fahris looking very uncomfortable. "What?"

The prince looked at her. "I…I don't know how to handle that. The first time I was…shocked. The second I was…appalled. But not by you!" he amended quickly. "By what you were doing. It seemed so…dark and archaic."

"Why do you accept your djinns' magic so readily?" Sybil asked quickly. "It's attractive, isn't it. Even when he's producing something violent or deadly he does it in such a fashion as to appear comical."

"How do you know that?" Farhis started.

"Father told me," she answered. "But you accept it don't you? Because it's a part of who he is. It's non-negotiable." She leveled with him. "I'm not going to stop using magic. Ever. It's a part of who I am. And I won't stop doing necromancy. It's been useful, hasn't it?"

"Yes…" Farhis drawled. "I'm just…" He paused, not sure how to tell her the opinion others might have of her magical style.

"I won't use it in front of other kingdoms. Not unless I have to," Sybil affirmed. "No sense in being overt. But you're going to have to get used to this. To me. I won't change who I am for you."

"And vice versa," Farhis said quickly. "You want to get angry at me for being polite. For treating you like a lady when you refuse to act like one. It's how I was brought up!" he defended himself. "So don't blow a fuse when I open a door for you or offer you a hand down or something."

Sybil humphed. "Fair enough," she agreed.

There was a moment, a brief, soft moment where the two smiled at one another. An open, honest smile that wasn't crippled with hidden agendas or parental disagreement.

And something grey came flashing through the windows.

Sybil jumped up as the thing crashed into the pillows, sending feathers flying everywhere. Farhis grabbed for the dagger at his hip and rose out of instinct to protect. He aimed for the flying mass.

"Don't!" Sybil yelled and grabbed his arm, waving at the creature. It was frantic and panting, head jerking back and forth till it heard Sybil's voice.

"What is that thing?" Farhis said with clear disgust.

"It's Xerxes." She clutched the flying eel close and petted his back fin till he began to calm down. "He's my father's familiar. He's half blind with old age. I can't believe father sent him this far!" _Especially when he could have just contacted me. _ She growled to herself at the abuse of the little creature. "Shuush shush," she whispered as Xerxes panted breathlessly in her arms. "Calm down….shuush…you found me." She lowered her voice several octaves, almost to a whisper. "You found me."

"Why would he send it?" Farhis said, poking the scaled side curiously.

"Something's wrong at home," Sybil said in a worried tone. "Xerxes…what happened? What's wrong?"

"Not sent. Came to find you! No other choice!" The little eel squeaked, finally speaking in a scratchy voice. "Little master…little blind master…"

"Morgan?" Her voice changed from worried to fearful. "What happened to Morgan? Is he hurt?"

"No. Not there. Stolen. From bedroom," Xerxes said and whimpered. "Mozenrath… worried. Mozenrath…" he stopped, looking from Sybil to Farhis and back again in a questioning tone.

"He's fine!" Sybil said quickly. "Xerxes, what about father?"

The eel continued, apparently reassured by her trust in the young man. "Mozenrath… not same. Not right." He looked vastly troubled by his master's actions. "Not eating. Not sleeping. Keeps going to little master's room," Xerxes whimpered. "Not listening to Xerxes."

Sybil gulped. It sounded nothing like the man she knew. "I'm coming home," she said sharply.

"Sybil." Farhis said, gently putting a hand on her shoulder. "Are you sure we can do anything? I mean…if your father can't find him…"

"My father isn't himself right now," she insisted. "We'll have to do this some other time."

Farhis took a deep breath. "I'm coming with you," he said firmly.

Sybil shook her head, gathering a pack together. "Bad idea. There is no guarantee what he's going to be like right now. Xerxes even had to come for me himself." She grabbed fruit from the bowl and poured a few flasks of water. "I'll grab something from the kitchen. Give my apologies to the Sultan." She headed for the door, turning her back on the prince.

"All the more reason to have me along," Farhis continued, grabbing another sack and following her. "What if he doesn't recognize you? It sounds like he's not in his right mind. You may need help finding your brother." He kept after her out the door and down the halls, ignoring the confused looks of the guards.

"This isn't your concern. I'll take care of this on my own."

"No!" He grabbed her roughly this time and turned her around. "We just went through this. We just got to the point of letting each other in a little bit." He kept hold of her arm, not letting her pull away. "We're betrothed. That means we are family." He looked her in the eyes, willing her to accept his help.

"You don't know anything about my family," Sybil said coldly, calmly.

Farhis rushed in, sensing the walls closing down between them again. "And I never will if you don't let me." He finally released her arm. "You can't stop me from coming."

"I could."

"No you couldn't," he affirmed and readied himself for her to try.

He expected a blast. What he got was a sigh.

"Does your whole family have a hero complex?" Sybil asked suddenly, hand on her hip as she looked at him.

"My sister Lalide tries to doctor small animals. Even ones that aren't hurt to begin with," he mentioned casually, as though they were right back in their guest rooms talking about family.

Sybil smirked. "Fine. Far be it from me to keep you from getting your head lobbed off when my father sees you." She threw up her hands and the little eel coiled around her shoulders looked at her oddly.

"Aladdin's son coming?" he questioned.

"For now," Sybil answered and continued to the kitchen.

Farhis smiled to himself as he walked alongside his future bride. She had trusted him this far. That was a goal. Right?

Little Victories


	11. Pressing Inward

**9.**

The journey from Agrabah to Getzistan through the back roads, slowed by a full caravan, had taken a week. The trip back to the Land of the Black Sand with only two on horseback (three counting the eel) took about two and a half days.

Sybil breathed deep as the reached the edge of her home, where gold and black sands swirled in battle with one another. She could already feel the magical signature that defined the land to those aware of it. Suddenly mindful of her companion, she sent out a glowing energy through the sands and saw some of the bumps underneath disappear.

"What was that for?" Farhis asked calmly.

"Mamlucks. I was just letting them know who I am and not to attack us," she explained and kicked her horse into a canter.

"They obey you?"

"Mostly," she said. "They really obey the one who creates them, and I've only made a few. But father told them to obey me so hopefully that holds."

"Why wouldn't it?" Farhis asked, not nervous but cautious.

"A wizard's state of mind is essential to spell casting. That's why you might see a sorcerer taking deep breaths or centering themselves before using powerful magic. It takes a force of will, determination, and focus to use magic. If a sorcerer loses these things…" She looked very worried. "Their powers become unstable and unpredictable."

"Then maybe…"Farhis suggested gently. "…we would be better off not announcing ourselves in the city. Is there another way in? Somewhere that we won't be noticed?"

"Maybe. I could try teleporting from here."

"You can do that?" Farhis said and when she nodded he twisted his lips. "Then why did we spend three days giving the horses a white coat?"

"Because I've never…!" She stopped, looking embarrassed. "I haven't really mastered it yet. And I've never done long distances like father does. But we should be alright from here if we don't take the horses. It makes animals sick," she said and dismounted. "Come over here," she said and pulled Xerxes out from under her cloak where he'd been sleeping. "Xerxes, we're going to teleport in. I need you to provide a base for me alright?" The little eel nodded vigorously and Sybil tossed her magic at him as he disappeared in a shower of green sparks.

"Provide a base?"

"You know I'm going to give you 'Basics Theories for Neophytes,'" she said thinly. "It's getting irritating explaining everything to you every time I cast a spell."

"Shouldn't a husband want to understand his wife better?" Farhis said with a charming grin.

Sybil tried vainly to hide the smile. "I thought we weren't going to think about that for a while?" she said but continued. "It's energy theory. I can lock in on Xerxes' magical signature and use it to help guide me to our destination. He's small, so he's easier to teleport. But the bigger the object, the harder it is." She took a deep breath. "Come closer to me."

"How close?" Farhis said, stepping nearer to her.

"Closer."

He scratched his neck as they touched shoulders.

Sybil rolled her eyes impatiently. "In front of me." She grabbed his arm and pulled him around.

Farhis lost his balance and instinctively threw his hands out to steady himself.

Sybil turned bright red, her cheeks flushing till her neck turned pink.

Farhis's face went stark and wide-eyed. "I-I-I…oh…I'm…sorry." He jerked his hand away from her left breast. "I'm so sorry I….err…." His palm was warm and tingling from where he'd felt her heartbeat. "I'm so sorry…" he muttered apologetically as he tried to find a way to explain himself.

"Never mind that," Sybil said, her voice higher than usual. "Just…come here." She moved him directly in front of her, not looking him in the eyes. "Focus on me. Take my hands," she said quickly and grabbed hold of them hastily.

Farhis felt a static-like charge raise the hair on his arms. The world around them went out of focus and he saw the green-blue fire swirl around them momentarily.

When it dissipated they were inside what he assumed was the Citadel's dining hall. A long table had been decorated in the kingdom's morbid colors and set as though about to entertain. But no food was present and the servants were looking from the kitchen door at them, no doubt surprised.

"Mistress Sybil!" one of them said in recognition, rushing forward and bowing to her formally.

"Chef," she said in recognition, obviously not remembering his name.

"It's good to have you back, mistress," he said, stammering nervously. "Things…have not been well lately. Not that I would ever speak out of turn!" he hurried along.

Sybil quieted him. "Now is not to time to be proper. I need to know what has been going on." She turned to the other servants. "Let no one know we have arrived. Especially not my father. Where is Naomi? I want to talk to her first."

"Who's Naomi?" Farhis asked when the chef left to fetch her.

"My father's…personal servant," she said, an edge to her voice.

Farhis soon saw why.

Naomi was a beautiful woman, perhaps three or four years older than Sybil and a picture of beauty. Her large brown eyes and thick, luxurious black hair fell like silk against her swarthy skin.

The look on her pretty face however, was less than pleasant as she saw who summoned her.

Sybil regarded her with much the same air. The two women sat across from one another and Sybil got to the point. "What's happened in my absence?"

Naomi scrunched her pretty face. "Five nights ago, all the lights went out, everything went dark, darker than usual. Mozenrath was up in the library and there was a scream. When we all got down there he was tending to Elaine's blood wounds. Your brother's room was in ruins and there was blood all over his bed."

Sybil went white, even her hair seemed to pale. "My brother…"

"No body has been found," Naomi said.

She breathed a little easier. "Continue. What about my father?"

Naomi frowned, but obeyed. "He's become more taciturn than usual. Since Morgan went missing he's stopped eating, stopped sleeping…stopped sleeping with me…" She looked distressed but Sybil was unsympathetic.

"His son is missing. Do you really think he'd choose you over Morgan?" she said coldly. "I want details."

Naomi's face went blank and she sneered. "You know sooner or later you're going to have to stop blaming me. Your father is a powerful man. Surely I'm not the first since you or your brother was born. A man needs companionship. I offer that. Mozenrath accepted." She smiled and stretched, showing off her lush, curvy body. "Who can blame him."

Sybil snarled, a clear, violent sound from her throat. Naomi jumped and started to pull away.

Farhis intercepted. "Naomi is it?" he asked and the woman nodded. "Listen, this isn't about you. A little boy is missing, your master's son. Do you really think he'll forgive you if you don't tell us what you know?"

The woman paused; apparently she had not considered this. "I don't know anything about Morgan," she said a moment later. "I was asleep when it happened. But I can tell you this. Mozenrath is mad," she said firmly. "I've seen him angry. I've seen him go cold with rage. This is different. He's gone round the twist. Daft." She curled a lock of hair around her finger. "I can't bring him out of it. And I know how to bring the man out of a blue funk."

"But daft how?" Farhis pressed, blocking Sybil's deepening anger from view with his body. "What's he doing that's different?"

"Well…" she thought, apparently more at ease talking with Farhis than her master's daughter. "He's been holed up in his lab for days. He does that anyhow sometimes, but he's refusing to admit anyone, even someone coming with food or water. He hasn't bathed. I only saw him leave once and he didn't come back till morning. He was dirty and bedraggled and refused to sleep even when I pleaded with him. He just kept saying, 'She'll never forgive me if I lose him.' And returned to his lab."

Farhis nodded and looked at Sybil, waiting to see if it had any effect on her. "She who?"

Sybil looked stunned. "My…my mother."

"Wouldn't she know by now? I mean if the whole palace knows…"

Sybil blushed suddenly and avoided his eyes.

"You didn't tell him?" Naomi said, her voice delighted at the prospect. "And him being your fiancée." She smiled at Farhis. "You see, dear boy…Sybil's mother…"

"If Sybil has something to tell me she can do it in her own time," Farhis said sharply. "I think we're done here." He dismissed her and turned to Sybil, trying not to let his own curiosity come forward. "Well…what now?"

"He's obviously trying to find Morgan…and getting more depressed when he can't," she surmised. "I don't know…this feels wrong."

"What do you mean?" Farhis asked.

"When Xerxes came…I thought he was just being paranoid." She began pacing back and forth. "Morgan is good at being quiet…and he likes to wander…sometimes he'll just go off around the Citadel for hours…"

"Even being blind?"

"Father always kept the dangerous things locked up tight. And we didn't want to make Morgan feel trapped," she explained. "But this…oh gods what if he's hurt! What if someone did kidnap him? Father has a hundred enemies!"

"Sybil!" Farhis stopped her before she could work herself up. "Think for a minute. You were attacked and now this? It would seem someone is specifically after your family."

Sybil stopped, her mind racing after Farhis's statement. "Yes…and if those raiders were sent to capture me, then…"

"Then in all likelihood they were going to do the same to Morgan."

"Which means he's probably still alive." Sybil calmed down, her eyes darting back and forth as she began to walk quickly towards the door. "We need to get up to the bedroom."

"Are you sure that's a good idea? If it's in the condition they say it is…"

"There may be clues. Some trace of something that could help tell us where he is," Sybil insisted. "We have to get up there. Without father seeing us."

"Can we teleport again?" Farhis asked and Sybil shook her head.

"Father will pick up the energy signature. I want to avoid him knowing we're here as long as possible."

"Which isn't very long, I promise."

The pair spun to see Mozenrath looking down at them, an decidedly unpleasant look on his face.

"Father," Sybil said, keeping her voice tightly controlled. But her father's attention wasn't on her, it was on the man he'd betrothed her to.

"What is _he_ doing here?" Mozenrath snapped, his dark eyes glaring at the young man.

Farhis didn't wait for Sybil to answer. "I'm here to help look for your son." He quickly added, "Lord Mozenrath."

"And what makes you think I need any help from the son of a street rat?" His voice was so dismissive as to be deliberately insulting.

Farhis felt every story he had ever heard about the necromancer towering close to him rush through his body as he said the next words. "You didn't seem to object to that when you offered your daughter as my wife," he shot back, his youthful bravado showing.

"You insolent little…"

"ENOUGH!" Sybil hollered over the both of them. "Enough! This is not the time nor the place for you two to have a…a cock fight!" Both men looked at her, a little shocked at the term she'd picked. "Morgan is missing! Someone has kidnapped him and you…!" She pointed at her father. "Look like death warmed over!"

He did. Mozenrath was fastidiously clean and well groomed out of habit. He always looked dark and ominously formal. But the man before Sybil was not familiar. His turban was off, the thick black curls unbrushed and a little greasy. He had no stubble, she'd never seen her father with any facial hair, but there were dark bags under his eyes and his face was yellowed.

He looked sick.

"I'm fine!" Mozenrath defended. "You two are supposed to be in Getzistan right now! Improving our relations with kingdoms so things like this don't happen!"

"I came back because Xerxes had to come and find me!" Sybil challenged. "You should have contacted me! I should have been here to help!"

"You can't do anything!" Mozenrath roared at his daughter. "I've been over that room with a fine tooth comb! I've scoured the surrounding deserts and had every mamluck on patrol! What can you do that I can't?"

"Provide a fresh pair of eyes," Farhis said smoothly.

"Stay out of this, whelp!" Mozenrath snarled. "You have no right to be here in the first place, and you shouldn't have brought him!" he snapped at Sybil, blaming her.

"He insisted. He could be of help! His parents could be of help!" she insisted, her voice almost pleading. _He's hurting. He's almost frantic. I've never seen him like this before. _"Father, just tell us what happened," she said and grasped his right arm, forcing him to turn and face her. "He's my brother as much as he is your son!"

Mozenrath rounded on her, shoving Sybil roughly out of the way. "Useless!" he snarled.

"Hey you can't just…" Farhis started in and felt the full force of the sorcerer's power slam against his gut, sending him flying across the room.

"Father, don't!" Sybil yelled and swarmed her magic forward, her power stopping Farhis from colliding with the marble pillars around the room. "You can't do this! You're killing yourself and it won't help Morgan!"

"You would side with him over your own father?" He redirected the magic, sending it toward her.

Sybil bared her teeth and drew hers up around herself. "I won't let you hurt yourself anymore," she said calmly and slammed her magic into his, sending the blue black fire spiraling off through the room.

Magic collided and blinding light echoed through the corners. The table went flying and the servants scattered.

Farhis winced as he lifted himself from the floor, feeling useless against the sorcery battle happening before him.

A squirming mass under his cape alerted him to the little eel's presence on his body. "Xerxes? It is Xerxes, isn't it?" he asked and the half blind creature shook its head as it watched the onslaught. Sybil was holding her own, but it was obvious her father was more powerful. She was sweating and forced to hide behind anything she could find as his magic became more threatening against her.

Farhis's mind raced through all the stories his father had told him till something clicked. "Xerxes. Where is Mozenrath's lab?" The eel looked up at him quizzically.

"Xerxes not show! Xerxes not show to you!" he insisted.

"Xerxes, please. I want to help Sybil! I want to help your mistress," he pleaded.

Xerxes seemed torn, eyes darting from Mozenrath's dark fire to Sybil's wild shocks. "Master not like…" he pressed.

"Do you think he'll like it if he kills her!" Farhis argued.

"Master not kill…" But the eel flipped up in the air and headed off down the hall. Taking the chance that he was leading and not running, Farhis followed.

Sybil ducked behind a pillar as a flame narrowly missed her head. _He's not himself. He's not himself. _She kept whispering inside her head as her father began gathering power again. Sybil blocked it rather effectively and redirected, letting her power gain stamina from his as she sent it hurling back to him.

Mozenrath felt it knock him back, sending scorch marks across his clothing. "I taught you much," he remarked.

"You _should_ be proud of that fact," she accused and came forward, not giving him a chance to recover. The surges were not lethal, but they were distractingly painful, keeping Mozenrath off balance and unable to focus. She could already feel his blasts losing power, weakening. His energy was scattered and erratic, meaning his mind was also.

Sybil reined back as the area around her father smoked and sparked with released power. "Stop," she said. "I didn't want to fight you. I want to help." She came forward, extending her hands, pleading with him in posture if not in words.

Mozenrath coughed, his breath heavy and labored. He was exhausted. Sybil felt her chest tear to see him like this. Her father. Always so proud. So controlled. So powerful.

It didn't seem real.

It didn't seem possible.

Like a snake Mozenrath moved, the power screeching from him to overtake Sybil's before she could even raise her arms…

Farhis slammed the anti-magic cuffs onto Mozenrath's wrists, the charge he had released backlashing through his body, and he threw his head back as the fire twisted around him. He collapsed unconscious on the floor as the errant magic dissipated.

Sybil followed after him, though she managed to stay aware. "If he were himself I wouldn't have managed this long," she said, trying to balance herself on her hands and knees.

Farhis took her shoulders and let her lean weakly against him, not letting her push away when she protested. "If he were himself you wouldn't have needed to," he assured her. Her kept his thoughts locked up, trying to give her a sense of stability. _Who could do that to their own daughter? Who could ever do that to their child? He attacked her like he was going to kill her!_

Sybil tried to stand and was forced to use Farhis as a crutch. The servants were just starting to poke their heads out and get a good view of the carnage in the room. Sybil tried to straighten herself in front of them. "As of now I am acting ruler of the Land of the Black Sand," she stated, waving it off when they tried to bow. "It's only till my father is in his right mind again," she insisted. "You two, get him to his bedroom. Naomi!" she ordered, frowning with dislike at the woman who had given her father physical attention. "I want you to get him to eat. I'll bind him from leaving the bed, in his weakened state I can do that much. But starvation and sleep deprivation won't improve his temper. When he wakes make him eat. I don't care if you have to ram it down his throat."

Naomi nodded and followed the men who were carrying the unconscious sorcerer.

"How did you find those?" Sybil asked as Farhis helped move her to a couch. "Father always kept them well hidden."

Farhis grinned. "My dad used to tell me stories about the anti-magic manacles. All it took was convincing Xerxes to help." He indicated the eel who was hiding behind him, looking as though he was going to be throttled.

"Master gonna be maaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaad," Xerxes warned.

"Master gonna get over it," Sybil said and gently cupped the little creature. "You did good Xerxes. You helped." She petted his fin tenderly and the eel made a growling purr as it settled into her lap.

"I'm sorry I couldn't be more helpful," Farhis said, settling beside her.

"Sorcery isn't exactly your game," she answered. "But I couldn't have held out much longer." Sybil smiled at him.

"What now?" He asked, letting the smile warm him up.

"First I need to bind my father to his bed. He won't rest unless I force it on him. Then I'll leave him to Naomi. She should be able to make him eat."

"And then…"

"Then…" Sybil said. "I don't know."

***

Morgan sat up straight, his energy pouring outward frantically as he tried to become aware of his surroundings. He felt a sharp fear as nothing met his tentative reaching, no signal, no energy, no presence.

Everything was to him, smooth, flat and undefined.

As though he was standing in space.

The lack of perception terrified him. No sensory information feeding into his mind. No contrast, no vibration of air or sound.

Nothing.

"Hello?"

His voice was like a whisper in this place. It did not reverberate or resonate. It was almost as though he had not spoken.

"Please!" he called louder, standing clumsily and reaching out as he had in his toddler years, taking one step slowly at a time, waiting for something to meet his fingertips. "Is anyone here?"

He walked for what seemed like minute after minute with nothing meeting him.

Then he tripped.

_I'm inside_. He realized with some sense of relief.

The floor under him was cold and smooth, marble most likely. But as he crawled along it, feeling for any distinction, it was like the rest of his surroundings. No ending, no cracks between the tiles. Just one long, smooth piece of marble.

It was so different from his room at home. He could locate where he was going without much help because he knew the feeling of each object in the room.

He felt cold. Lonely and scared.

Morgan curled his legs to his chest and began to sob softly, biting his lip and wondering where he was.

"Are you frightened?"

The voice did not sound like his had. It made the correct noises in the air, it hit his ears and reverberated. It was strong and solid and _there._

Without hesitation Morgan flung his energy out, searching for a presence.

It connected for the briefest moment, then the energy vanished.

"Are you frightened, little one?"

Morgan heard the voice closer and lashed out again, this time coming more in contact with his host. There was a form, male, tall, adult.

But not human.

Morgan sniffed, the salt stinging in his eyes. "I'm not scared!' he hollered, sounding remarkably like his father.

"Kidnapped, blind, taken away from your home with some strange beast holding you captive." A chuckle like dry leaves. "If you are not scared, then you are very stupid."

"You're stupid." Morgan said, frowning as his face scrunched in frustration.

"Such a charming son. Now…sit!" The energy flared and Morgan winced as it invaded his, pushing him back across the space he was in. It knocked him back, forcing him down on the floor. "Your host is soon to arrive."

Pushing Inward


	12. Formulating A Plot

_The image of the room in shambles flooded over Mozenrath, the bed broken and torn. The warmth of blood soaking through the fabric of the gauntlet and staining his bones pink underneath._

_Rage. _

_Xerxes sniffed out a trail. He thundered through the Citadel, every servant quaking in his wake. He took a horse and ran it till the beast died of exhaustion in the sands. Then he raised it and rode the poor dead beast till its bones snapped and he left the animal wasted and screeching in the desert. Then he walked, following the eel as it tracked as best it could. _

_Until the magic ran cold and every sense of hope evaporated. _

_He returned to the Citadel and locked himself in his library. He pored over books, using the blood from the knife nanny Elaine had wounded the kidnapper with to gain some knowledge. _

_It yielded nothing. The blood turned grey and then turned to ash in the vial, leaving him clueless._

_He made Xerxes search the room again and again and again. The eel smelled Morgan and blood, and nothing else. _

_He thought about Isolde. About contacting her. _

_Only to tell her what? I've lost our child. I've lost half my link to you. Half of what made everything between us real. _

_Mozenrath was only vaguely aware of Naomi pleading with him to bathe, to eat, to sleep. She used all of her influence over him to try and convince him to forget for a moment. _

_He called her a whore and threw her out. _

_Night after night he searched for some recourse. Some defining characteristic of proof._

_The Dominion. It seemed so arrogant to assume they had even noticed him yet. He had assumed he was under their radar, even for a while longer. The attack on Sybil made him anxious, but it was just as likely that any of his long list of enemies could have attempted it. _

_And if it were them? If that wretched empire had begun to stretch its claws to his holdings? What could he do? How could he conquer a kingdom whose population tripled that of the Seven Deserts? Who knew what resources they had at their disposal?_

_His helplessness rankled him. Twenty years ago, a decade ago, he would not have hesitated to rush off and slaughter every living being in the place and mamluck them for emphasis. But he looked in the mirror now. At his white streaked curls. At the lines across his face, thin but showing age. The once fierce brow that had mellowed. He felt old. Old and weakened._

_What could be done to his child with no one to protect him? His own childhood memories flooded over him. The fear that his son might be experiencing the same…_

_NO! _

_Why didn't I teach him magic? Why didn't I give him some self-defense? Why didn't I guard him more preciously? _

_Because I'm arrogant. Because I was so sure I could defend what's mine. Because I thought by this point in my life anyone who might have risen against me would be dead by my hand._

_Oh gods it's my fault. _

_That's when he started to kill himself. Food, sleep, hygiene. It was all useless if he could not protect what was his. _

_Then Sybil came and he fought. He fought for control. He fought not to keep her close. Fought to keep her away, to chase her out. _

_Can't you see? You're not safe here! They've already come for you once! I can't defend you anymore! _

_But he'd taught his daughter far too well. She was strong, powerful, vibrant. Her magic eclipsed his, though it was a hard fight. It made him feel good to know he'd at least prepared her. _

_Then that boy, Aladdin's son, slapped the manacles on him and the world went black. _

***

Sybil pored over everything her father had amassed and tossed it all aside with disgust. Servants routinely brought in food and she gnawed on it like a hungry wolf, never once taking her eyes of her work. Farhis helped as best he could, being mostly clueless in the magical spectrum, by keeping things organized and trying to convince her to sleep when the moon was high.

On the fifth day, he had finally resorted to asking one of the servants for a sleeping draught. He had slipped it in despite accusatory looks from the eel, and when Sybil finally slumped against the table drowsily he picked her up and laid her on the couch. She dozed there peacefully now, covered in a blanket and looking nearly as exhausted as her father had.

He had taken the opportunity to contact his parents.

They were of course none too thrilled that he had decided to both skip the itinerary AND follow Sybil to the Citadel. But most of all…

"Farhis, promising her your help essentially amounts to promising the help of Agrabah and all its resources!" his father came down strictly. "You can't make those kinds of irresponsible guarantees!"

His mother was a little less irate, but not by much. "He's only doing what he felt was right. The same kinds of things you used to do," Jasmine defended her firstborn resolutely, but then looked at him with calculating eyes. "Has she asked for anything besides your help? Any resources or promises?"

"Nothing at all," Farhis said a little defensively. "She's been pretty much wrapped up in poring over her father's findings and trying to find her brother. I had to slip her a drug so she would finally sleep before she ended up like Mozenrath."

Aladdin stiffened. "You met with him?"

"Kind of. He wasn't too pleased to see me here…"

"I'll bet…"

"Kind of attacked us…"

"He _**WHAT!**_" Aladdin roared angrily through the haze of blue smoke. "I'll bring down the whole of Agrabah's army on his damned Citadel before the sun rises!"

"You'll do no such thing," Jasmine said, settling him with a snap. "He's obviously alive, isn't he?" she countered before her husband could wind himself into a tizzy. "Farhis said he attacked them. Both our son and his own daughter! Something must have gone wrong."

"Sybil said he wasn't himself. And the servants have been whispering that he's been getting worse since his son was kidnapped," Farhis argued.

"He's scared that his son is hurt or worse," Jasmine said. "Like any parent would be if their child were kidnapped." She sounded sympathetic as she frowned and looked pensive. "But we can't offer any help directly…" She sounded like she was trying to convince herself of this.

"Rashad said the council was doubting this was a good idea," Farhis interrupted. "That it might not be worth the risk…"

"If the Dominion is involved," Aladdin said smoothly. "But it seems Mozenrath has come to the same realization we did."

"What conclusion? What are you talking about?"

"That the Dominion has already made its move on the Seven Deserts. And my brother is just the latest piece to be captured."

Sybil had woken up, her dark eyes moving smoothly from the portal to her betrothed with accusation in the rims. "However, with little to no proof, there is no way to convince the respective countries to combine forces and make a move against their overreaching plots." She looked to the sultan and sultana of Agrabah. "Am I correct in assuming that your kingdom has had some incidents as well? Small things that nobody pays a mind to at the time…" She smirked as if she knew. "Like bandit raids disrupting tributaries and precious food stores for outlying villages. Or advisors who were once so amiable to relations in Agrabah suddenly becoming viper-tongued against you and then disappearing with gold in their pockets."

Aladdin and Jasmine both looked nervous.

"Subversive tactics aren't necessarily my father's style, but one has to admire the underhanded subtlety of it. I've suspected, as I'm guessing the rest of the kingdoms have, that the Dominion has been worming its way from the councilors' chambers to the mercenary corps of each kingdom and using gold and promises of position to secure allies." She hummed, as though considering how effective such a plan might be in the future. "The irony of course being that even though every kingdom knows what they're trying to do, none of them have attempted to ask the rest of the sultans for help. Their pride makes such a plan foolproof even in its discovery."

Farhis turned to his fiancé. "But if your father already knows, then why was he so frantic? Why didn't he just use our engagement as a premise to ask for help?"

"Son, you don't know much about Mozenrath, but he's not the type to ever ask for help. He'd be more likely to kidnap one of your sisters and demand our compliance," Aladdin said gruffly.

Sybil sighed, embarrassed. "Yes, that does sound like father," she agreed. "But you're not dealing with him now, Sultan Aladdin. You're dealing with me. I'm going to assume your son has filled you in on _unnecessary_ details," she emphasized with a glare in Farhis' direction. "Until my father recovers, I am acting ruler."

Jasmine spoke first. "We sympathize with your position, Sybil. But as you said, without proof of the Dominion's involvement we cannot condone Agrabah becoming involved with this." She looked truly upset, as though she would like nothing better than to hug the girl looking at her through the portal. "We are sorry."

Sybil gritted her teeth angrily, her mood darkening. "But if you…"

"Deny it."

All eyes turned to the young prince. "We're not asking for Agrabah's involvement." Sybil gave him a positively withering glare, but he ignored her. "In fact I think it would be better if Agrabah completely and totally denied any knowledge of troubles existing in the Black Sands _or_ in the Seven Deserts for that matter."

"What!?" Sybil snarled. "My little brother could be lying murdered and you expect for me to just…"

Farhis stopped her fist before it could reach him, looking into her furious eyes with compassion in his own. "Because of course if nothing is wrong…then how can we claim knowledge of anything that might be done about it?"

Sybil froze, then it dawned on her. A slow, admiring grin spread over her face. "Oh! Oh. Oh yes. Oh I have underestimated you haven't I?" she said almost apologetically. "You know I think you just might have a devious streak running right through that whole heroic act of yours."

Aladdin caught on first. Fatherly fear leapt through him, then the admiration swept it under the rug. It was exactly the sort of plan he would have concocted at that age. The kind of thing he would have relished, full of danger and intrigue and every possibility of getting himself killed. _He's my son, _he felt soundly, and he wanted so badly to give him that chance.

Jasmine looked confused, but knew enough to be worried. "No," she said firmly. "Whatever you two have planned…"

"We've planned nothing," Farhis argued smartly. "And you can't acknowledge otherwise. It will open everything up to suspicion and alert anyone who might be listening."

"No! Nononono!" Jasmine felt tears welling in her eyes. She could sense the danger to her firstborn, the dread she always felt when Aladdin had to go and fight and be a hero. The fear that he might not come back. "I forbid it."

Farhis stepped towards the portal. "Mom." He reached out, touching the blue smoke with his fingertips. "Dad. You both made the decision that I was old enough to take a wife and represent my people as a crown prince. When the bandits attacked, you decided that I was enough of an adult to handle that and continue with my duties. Well if I'm grown up enough to be a man for my kingdom, then I'm old enough to be a man for my future wife."

Sybil felt her heart thud against her breast when he turned, his face illuminated with soft blue hues.

"This is my decision. Would you want me to do any less? Even if she wasn't going to be my bride?"

Aladdin held onto his wife, supporting her as she began to sob softly, tears of a mother. "No. No, we wouldn't." he said. To Sybil he spoke formally. "I wish you luck on finding your lost brother. But Agrabah will not involve itself with the affairs of other kingdoms."

Sybil nodded. "I'll have all your heads on pikes and anything else I'm sure my father would have said," she replied nonchalantly.

Farhis cast one last sympathetic look toward his mother, wishing he could comfort her, but knowing that would only make him doubt his plan further. He closed the portal, sliding the djinn's lamp back into his pocket.

When he turned around Sybil was right there, looking both annoyed and impressed. "I should have you thrown into the dungeon for drugging me." She turned on her heel with that statement and began walking out the door. Farhis smiled, sensing the affection in her voice and followed. "So what's the plan?" she asked smoothly.

Formulating A Plot


End file.
